


Ciphers and Pines

by AngeliaDark



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill is a dad, Dad Bill Theory, Demon Pines, Weirdmageddon, one of us au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5232173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeliaDark/pseuds/AngeliaDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mix of the One Of Us AU and the Dad Bill Theory.  Bill sees changes in Mabel's bubble and Ford's gold prison, and comes to find his direct intervention in making his prophesy come to pass had repercussions.  He decides to use this serendipity to his advantage, rather than just simply be rid of four possible allies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was literally no feeling better in the universe than when things go to plan.

Bill reclined back mid-air, enjoying the festivities and that amazing feeling of victory, content to let his friends and associates party themselves out in celebration of their newfound freedom. He allowed himself to properly appreciate and enjoy every little detail that he'd manipulated that allowed this time to come to pass.

A billion years of planning, perfect alignment of time and pawns, and even some direct influence in the last few decades all led to this. Perfection. Absolute perfection.

His thoughts drifted absently to the Pines clan, the most direct and intimate manipulation of all. The long-term cultivation of his favorite pawns was without a doubt his favorite part of this whole scheme. A little urging there, a nudge in the right direction, and all the right words, and the end game landed literally into his hands.

Now he had Shooting Star locked away in her little bubble, Sixer encased in gold, Fez hiding out somewhere, and Pine Tree running for his life, and everything was fine just fine—

"Boss!"

He was jerked out of his musings by 8 Ball, who walked up to the podium, an expression of urgency on his face, which immediately set Bill on edge. 8 Ball was first and foremost unconcerned about much of anything, so for him to be URGENT about something…

"What is it, 8 Ball?" he asked, righting himself. 8 Ball pointed out the eye-shaped window.

"The girl's bubble," he replied, the 8s of his eyes quivering. "I saw something DIFFERENT about it."

8 Ball's odd ability to see things even Bill would miss at first glance was invaluable to the triangular demon, so he made a point to never overlook the beast's observations. Without a pause, he turned to the window and turned it transparent with a flicker of his will, his eye widening when he took a good look at Mabel's bubble.

The bubble, which had been slightly enlarged to accommodate the girl's massive imaginative prowess, had now engorged itself to the point where the chains were straining to contain it. The vibrant pink color was now a pulsating, ominous red, the sign of the Shooting Star cracking and crumbling.

This wasn't possible. Even the most mentally-gifted human couldn't do this to the bubble; it wasn't humanly POSSIBLE. For THIS kind of reaction to show, the mental power it would take, she'd have to be a—

A sense of dawning realization, like a detail he'd overlooked, began to creep along his insides, a suspicion that was now ringing at him like a five-alarm bitch. He snapped his fingers, summoning his gold-incased Ford to his hands, feeling a slight twitch at his eye.

The statue had changed somewhat; Stanford's expression, which had been frozen in a state of horrified shock, now seemed to hold a touch of wrathful realization. The fingers that had been slightly curved were now clawed more inward, the digits slightly longer and more tapered at the ends like claws.

This too should be impossible. He had completely changed Stanford's biological structure from organic to gold. Even with the soul trapped inside, it was impossible for it to manipulate the physical form which contained it.

This wasn't right. It wasn't humanly possible.

….HUMANLY possible….

He was drawn back in time, decades upon decades ago, when he found the first of his pawns to begin the final cycle of his prophesy in Filbrick Pines, the man who would father the next two pieces of the game. Things had to go perfectly, without an ounce of suspicion on his part.

The man had sold his soul to Bill for glory. Bill didn't exactly tell him that the 'glory' in question would be fathering the two most important pieces of the prophesy, but that wasn't important. What WAS important was Bill settling into his new meat suit and setting out to find the mother of the Pines twins.

He established himself in a simple environment, away from suspicion. Constant possession of the Filbrick's body made it more and more difficult to hide his eyes, so he fabricated the excuse of being light-sensitive to hide them behind shades. He was married and settled, and soon the twins were born.

Stanford and Stanley Pines.

His Sixer and Fez, who were born innocent to the knowledge of what they were to be fifty-odd years down the line. He allowed them to grow up to the point where he needed to begin shaping them into what roles they needed to play; Stanford as the brain, Stanley as the brawn. He kept his cold, distant, neutral tone to them to drive them further into honing their skills. Stanley fought harder. Stanford studied harder.

Their bond was strong, which made all the more violent the snap when it broke. Bill didn't even need to check himself to know a future version of himself had taken possession of a Time Officer to go to that science fair and break Stanford's project. The dominos were set up, and that one science fair made them fall.

He made a grand show of kicking Stanley out and put forth some encouragement for Stanford to study, and study hard. To go from undergrad to PhD sooner than anyone had expected. To write a fine thesis and get the grant that would send him to Gravity Falls.

That wasn't to say Stanford was the only one Bill had his eye on. The life Stanley had been kicked out into had a 95% mortality chance, and that wasn't a chance Bill wanted to put his odds on. Granted, he was honestly impressed with Stanley's natural drive for survival, but that didn't mean he didn't veer a pointed gun off-target, leave a 'forgotten' $20 between the car's seats during times of hunger, or loosen the lock of the trunk Stanley chewed his way out of.

During times outside of life-or-death situations, if Bill were capable of pride, he'd feel it for Stanley. The man could con a deal out of the devil on his best days.

Back with Stanford, Bill made things a little TOO easy for the man, which only made Stanford all the more desperate for MORE when Bill stopped handing out the freebies. Having him call Bill forward was shooting fish in a barrel by that point, manipulating Stanford's pride and playing him like a violin right up to the betrayal.

He had been in and out of Stanford's mind enough to know he didn't have to worry about the man destroying his precious journals, or dismantling the portal. There was no human alive that Bill was aware of that had more pride than Stanford Pines, and that was just how he wanted it.

Stanford's sociopathic pride that blew off his brother, that stopped Stanley from burning the journal, that began a brawl over it, that pushed Stanley into the panel that branded him. The burn that sparked Stanley's survival fighting instinct, which led him to strike out at his brother for the first time with all the strength of a wounded beast. Stanley's mental, physical, and emotional pain that pushed his brother into that portal, sealing everything nice and neatly.

After that, Bill had no more need for his human flesh puppet anymore. He'd given Filbrick his end of the deal now, and he made sure to give the man a close, personal, AGONIZING look at what that deal had cost him. Doctors ruled the resulting deadly stroke as bad luck, but Bill knew better. Thirty years' worth of experiences all at once tended to do quite a number on the human brain.

The end of the deal signified the end of his time in the human plane of existence, and so Bill was forced to watch events forge before him from his decayed, withered dimension in the Nightmare Realm, unable to manipulate any further, and instead watch things unfold neatly as expected.

Gideon summoning him was just icing on the already-delicious cake. A deal wasn't necessary at all; Stanley would have all three journals by the end of the summer at SOME point, but it never hurt to scoot things along. But he wanted to really see what his little pawns were made of, so he played along.

He was pretty impressed with Stanley's mind, and even more amazed at the amount of control the man had of his own Mindscape. Self-awareness of that caliber was rare in humans, and Stanley seemed to control it almost casually. Eh, days in solitary confinement and isolation in a car would do that to people sometimes.

The imaginative ways of fighting him back were juvenile, but inventive, and Bill could appreciate creative destruction. Mabel especially had the kind of weird, mildly psychopathic mental tendencies he enjoyed, while Dipper's method was more cold and calculated, both of which Bill could respect.

All four Pines had developed in ways Bill found himself respecting in ways that went above his normal disdain for the human race as a whole, honest rareness in the eternity Bill had existed. Humans were renewable energy sources, pawns, puppets, toys…but the Pines were held in higher regards, even subconsciously…

Bill broke out of his musings, vanishing from the Fearamid and up to Mabel's bubble, his eye narrowing as he looked it over. On closer inspection, yes, he DID see something different about it, aside from the glaringly obvious. Minuscule ripples of energy swirled over the surface, flickering with an essence Bill knew, and knew well. In his hand, Stanford's golden prison had the same flickering, the type of essence that Bill himself called on to change the natural state of things; that could set water on fire and shove Newton's Laws right up the dead man's ass.

It was HIS essence. This energy he was feeling was HIM.


	2. Chapter 2

Bill was no fool when it came to the manner of workings his kind was capable of, but he paid attention to his own business and didn't bother with the business of others. Pick a section of the multiverse, and stick to your own lane, that was how he operated. In the eternity he'd existed, though, he could admit he hadn't seen EVERYTHING. He told Gideon he knew LOTS of things. Not ALL things. He liked surprises. It made eternal existence more bearable.

This was one of those things he didn't know, but now did.

Naturally, possessing Filbrick's body would have side-effects aside from the physical cues of his eyes. He had been in the man's body a full year before he fathered the twins, and now the full realization hit him as he felt his own essence coming from both Mabel and Stanford.

Filbrick's body hadn't just fathered the twins. HE had fathered the twins too.

It all made sense now.

Stanford's obsession with the weird—hell, probably his sixth fingers in general!—his ambition, his sociopathic mindset, his capacity for mental manipulation.

Stanley's natural tendency to con and lie, his unnatural ability to control his own Mindscape.

Dipper's cold, vindictive streak, having no problem with handling magic, his craving for answers to questions that haven't been asked yet.

Mabel's absolute comfort with weirdness, her psychopathic way of thinking, her ability to charm anyone, and her literally endless imagination that went above and beyond what children were capable of.

He had given a part of himself into the twins, and in facto to his third child Sherman, and it had completely escaped him.

Bill contemplated between the bubble and the gold figure, wondering to himself why he didn't sense this when he was in Stanford or Stanley's minds, or Dipper's body. Could there have been a trigger for it? He reached out and touched the bubble, feeling a pulse run through it before it doubled back at him like an echo. The sign of the Shooting Star cracked even further, and the chains creaked in protest. In his hand, the golden statue's energy shuddered, and Bill actually SAW the micro-movement shift again.

Of course. These prisons that he had put Mabel and Stanford in were concentrations of his own power working directly into the energy that was threaded into their DNA and soul strings, increasing the amount of energy they were able to utilize of their own will.

These weren't just prisons. He had put them into incubators.

This changed everything.

Bill quickly scrapped the plan of having Dipper find the bubble and trap himself in the 'prison'. Having TWO of his own kind in this one incubator could be catastrophic, and not in the good, fun way.

He displaced Stanford's figure and placed his hands on the bubble, manipulating the energy around it to displace and absorb into his own form, as much as he could, in any case. Already, Mabel was gathering and manipulating her OWN energy, fueling her Mindscape's power at a rate that was concerning. He managed to shrink the bubble down to a decent size, then held out one hand, summoning Ford's figure back to him before encasing it in a bubble of its own, sealed in with the sign of the Six-Fingered Hand.

Inside the bubble, the gold reformed back to organic components, and Bill quickly willed the man inside to sleep. This bubble too was an incubator instead of a prison, but Stanford's affinity was for external mental power, rather than internal like Mabel's. The incubation process would be slower if he was asleep.

Bill teleported to his personal space at the topmost part of the Fearamid, setting the bubbles down in the air before sitting back to think about his current predicament. There were several ways this could pan out. He could destroy Mabel and Stanford while they were still in the bubbles. That would not be hard when they were unconscious. He could then seek out and destroy Dipper and Stanley before they had a chance to incubate and become an actual threat.

Then again, this rare anomaly of four hybrids of his own kind WAS almost too good to pass up. He had been earnest in his offer to Stanford in joining him; the man was just far too sore for his own good. But perhaps Bill could appeal to the insatiable craving for the unknown in him…

Bringing Stanley over to his side would actually be easier…the world had not been kind to the younger of the elder pair, and as long as the younger pair of twins were safe, he'd be game for most anything.

Mabel was already the furthest along in the incubation process. Give her the eternal summer she always wanted, and her own demonic nature would take over her human need to care about HOW the rest of the world would pan out.

Dipper was another story. His Pine Tree was definitely a once-bitten-twice-shy type, and would be the hardest to convince. Perhaps he'd save the boy for last; if the rest of the Pines clan were a part of all this, Dipper would follow once he saw there was no other option besides death.

Bill's eye glowed brightly, honing in on every surface of Gravity Falls to locate the barest trace of his inherited energy. After a few moments, he could see Dipper hiding out in an abandoned store, hunkered down under a table in the corner. Stanley had discovered Stanford's secret bunker and was armed to the teeth, having already killed the Shapeshifter that had gotten free, as well as several other beasts.

He closed his eye and snapped his fingers, summoning several henchbats to him and with a flicker of his will, giving them the sight of where the two other Pines members were. "Find them and bring them to me unharmed!" he commanded. "Engage en mass for the old man, he'll take as many of you down as he can."

The henchbats were sent off, leaving Bill alone again with the two incubating Pines. He tented his fingertips, contemplating for a moment before turning to Stanford's bubble, summoning it to him and popping it.

Stanford hovered mid-air, jerking awake with gasping and coughing, curling up on himself as he felt a sensation akin to electric sludge running through his body. It was mildly painful and incredibly uncomfortable, making him feel all sorts of wrong.

"Well well well, Sleeping Fordsy finally wakes up."

Ford's eyes flickered upward at Bill, his body shaking with terror and rage, and Bill could see a golden glow behind Stanford's eyes and a slight darkening of skin on his hands. Bringing Stanford out mid-incubation was probably agonizing, but best to work this out now, while the man was on the fence about things.

He reclined back, holding the curled-up man in his palm. "Bet you're feeling weird, eh, Sixer?" he asked conversationally. "Like your insides are rearranging, your mind taking in too much, your skin crawling…that's gotta be uncomfortable, amirite?"

"W…what…..did you…d…do…?" Ford demanded, his voice shaking violently as he curled up tighter, looking closer to being ill.

"Something unprecedented," he admitted. "Didn't really MEAN to, but I'm a guy who rolls with the flow, y'know? It's a LONG, extensive story, so it's best if I just SHOW you."

"S…show me…? What—" Stanford was cut off when Bill poked a clawed fingertip to his head, filling his mind with EVERYTHING from the beginning, from possessing Filbrick to getting the Rift from Mabel. It happened in an instant, and Ford collapsed in Bill's palm, shaking violently.

"Wow, your mind is durable!" Bill commented, leaning back. "When I did that to Filbrick, he had a stroke. Must be your demon side working out for you, eh?"

Ford shook harder, feeling tears leak out of his eyes, absently aware that the fluid wasn't clear, but was instead a transparent, sooty black. "…N…no…" he stammered, curling up tighter. "Th…that isn't….h…how c-could you…?"

"Oh, but it IS, Sixer," Bill said, lifting his hand closer. "Didn't know it would happen, but it did. You, your twin, and your little niece and nephew carry MY lineage. Your family are Ciphers as much as they are Pines! And THAT'S where your little secondary demonic puberty thing is coming in.

"See, my kind doesn't breed the same way YOURS does. We're creatures of energy, incubated until we're ready to be 'born', so to speak. Energy is contained in incubators until we gather enough sentience to structure ourselves into forms. Like so." He gestured to himself. "It's a little detail I overlooked, but possessing the body of Filbrick Pines had me dispersing my own energy into his genetic coding, passing it on to you, Stanley, and Sherman."

He laughed, leaning his hand on one side of his body. "You were totally right in telling Pine Tree that Gravity Falls is a magnet for things that are special. But, Mister Arrogance, that doesn't JUST include you and him. Fez and Shooting Star are just as special, since THEY carry my lineage too."

Bill shifted his hand so Ford would face Mabel's bubble.

Ford's body ran cold, the squirming of his insides clenching tighter. He could see flickering energy sparking around the bubble, sense a shifting of SOMETHING inside. There was but a shadow to be seen from the outside, but Ford could see it was starting to resemble something other than a 12-year-old girl. "…Mabel…"

"She's progressing nicely," Bill said. "Surprisingly nicely. I always liked Shooting Star. She's chaotic, she appreciates discord, and thrives in pandemonium. When she's done incubating, she'll be a force to reckon with." His eye shifted to Stanford. "…Much more of a force than you could hope to contend with. And you thought SHE was the one suffocating Pine Tree!"

"N…no…" Ford murmured, feeling more transparent liquid run from his eyes. "Didn't….m-mean it like that…!"

"Don't kid yourself, Fordsy, we both know you picked your favorite and ran with him," Bill laughed. "You drove my little Shooting Star into the woods, and had her put the Rift right in my hands. But past is past, and now it's time to focus on the future." His eye flickered red. "YOUR future. HER future. You have two choices, Stanford. With a simple flick of my wrist, I can set you two on fire until you're ashes, ridding you from being a problem once and for all…"

Bill internally smiled when he felt the panic rise up in Ford's emotions, seeing the man's hand twitch out toward Mabel's bubble. "OR," he continued, lifting Ford at eye level, "I can finish the incubation process. You'll be changed for the better, as new members of this world, with your family. Fez and Pine Tree included."

Ford's expression flickered rapidly between fear, apprehension, concern, contemplation. Bill decided to nudge a little further.

"You'll be a creature of infinite possibility, Stanford," he crooned. "All the time in the universe to study the mysteries of the universe, to gain infinite knowledge, to watch new creations and knowledge forge up from galaxies yet to be born. And you wouldn't have to sacrifice anything for it. You'll have your soul, your family, and even me supporting you the whole time. So what's it gonna be, Sixer? Death, or eternal existence with everything you could ever want?"

Ford bit his lip until it bled, taking only moments to weigh his options before sighing, his body deflating in resignation. If not for himself—tempting and succulent the prize was—then for Mabel's life. He owed the girl that much.

"…I'll do it," he said. "Please…..PLEASE…just…promise me…"

"Your family will have the same choice as you," Bill assured. "Trust me, them joining me will be FAR more entertaining than me killing them. I'm curious as to what abomination you'll all turn out to be! GIDDY, almost!" He lifted his hand, Ford's body levitating in the air. "Have a nice sleep, Stanford. See you soon."

He put Stanford to sleep, then encased him back into the bubble, sealing it with the Six-Fingered Hand before putting it up next to Mabel's.

He wasn't lying. He actually COULDN'T wait to see what manner of nightmarish monsters his lineage would be like. He just needed to bring in Fez and Pine Tree...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Shermie' sounds more like a family nickname; it would make more sense that Mabel and Dipper's grandfather was named 'Sherman'.


	3. Chapter 3

Surprisingly, it was Stanley that the henchbats managed to find and bring back first. He wasn't encased in stone like others that were captured, but rather it took four henchbats working together to keep him levitated in a beam, considering how savagely he was fighting against them.

Bill could hear Stanley before he actually saw him. The old man had a set of lungs on him, and now held no reservations about swearing since the world had gone to hell anyway. When the henchbats came in, Bill dismissed them and held Stanley up with his own power, taking a glance over the man.

Stanley had been in several brutal fights, that much was obvious. His suit was torn in several places, multiple shades of blood and monster fluids splattered over him. His knuckles were bruised and scabbed, as was his face. He looked close to death, but acted the complete opposite, showing no fear to the demigod before him, instead snarling and throwing his weight against the energy field that held him, his eyes blazing.

"LET ME GO, YA BASTARD!" he shouted, clawing at the field. "LET ME OUT! LET ME—" He cut off when he saw the bubbles in the corner, honing in on the symbols, recognizing the Shooting Star from Mabel's favorite sweater, and the Six-Fingered Hand from the journals, getting a dawning realization as to where his brother and niece were. His fight was rekindled, thrashing harder, howling in rage. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM!?" he screamed.

Bill sat back, amused at Stanley's tantrum, crooking a finger and levitating the man closer until he was hovering in Bill's palm. "Yeesh, watch the blood pressure, Fez," he snorted. "Don't want you having a heart attack before hearing me out."

Stanley snarled, his fists clenching so tightly that Bill could hear the knuckles cracking. "LET THEM GO!" he growled, struggling against the field. Bill sighed, snapping his fingers and locking up Stanley's body, jaw included.

"Look, Fez, if you're gonna be a brat about this, I just can set you on fire right now without offering you something I KNOW you'll want to consider." He saw Stanley's eyes narrow nastily at him, but the internal screaming stopped. "They're safe, Stanley, no harm has come to them. No harm WILL come to them. You, I don't know yet."

He reclined back, settling Stanley on his palm. "You have a pretty strong mind, so I'm PRETTY sure this wont cause a stroke. Pretty sure. Who knows, right?" He reached out and showed Stanley what he had shown Stanford, from beginning to end.

Bill could almost hear the stress of Stanley's mind attempting to process it all; luckily—if not disappointingly—there was no stroke or aneurysm, but that would have been counterproductive. Stanley was curled up in his palm, hands clutching his hair tightly.

"What…no….." he was muttering to himself, eyes wide and streaming. "…that's not….possible…it's….no….."

"'Fraid so, Fez," Bill replied. "But I AM kinda curious…which part disturbs you the most? The fact that your entire existence was a lie based around completing a prophesy, or the fact that I'm technically your father? Either way, I think it's kinda hilarious, don't you?" He lifted his hand higher, his eye filled with mirth. "You built the last thirty years of your life as a lie, and now you know your ENTIRE life was a lie! It's that FUNNY?"

He laughed to himself, absently hearing Stanley let out a muffled keen of mental agony. "Oh, don't be like that, Stanley! It's not just YOU, you know. Sixer's whole existence was a big fat lie too! He was no better or worse off than you." He turned his hand showing Stanley the two bubbles. "But he chose to become something MORE. Inside these bubbles, Mabel and Stanford are incubating their powers that will bring out their TRUE selves. I'm giving you and Pine Tree the same opportunity. When all is said and done, you'll have your family back, and this time, it'll be forever."

Stanley lifted his head slightly, looking at the bubbles with concern and longing, not taking nearly as long as his brother with his decision.

"…for my family…" he muttered, clenching his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, glaring at Bill, all fear and existential crises gone and replaced with firm warning. "And don't hurt Dipper any more than you already have, you overbaked Dorito, or so help me, whatever I am coming out of that bubble will be your worst nightmare, you hear me!?"

Bill laughed. "I like the cut of your jib, Stanley," he said. "We'll get along juuuuust fine, I know it." He levitated Stanley's body further up. "You just take a nice visit to your Mindscape now. When you wake up, your family will be waiting for you."

Stanley didn't even need to be told twice. Physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion made it easy to indulge in his lesser-known and somewhat useless talent of putting himself to sleep within moments, with all Bill having to do being putting him in a bubble, sealed with the sign of the Crescent.

Bill levitated the bubble to settle next to its twin, smiling internally to himself. All he needed was to collect up Dipper Pines, and the fun could REALLY begin!

* * *

Four days. It had been FOUR DAYS, and the boy was nowhere to be found.

Bill was not happy. He now figured that Dipper had managed to side-step the henchbats and made his way back to the Shack, where the wards were still up and running. The fact that the place also contained Stanley's gun collection and Stanford's experimental weapons that could easily fight off any monster that could come close.

The downside was the place was stocked with only so much food, and the isolation would likely make the kid go insane. The kid may be only twelve, but that was old enough to still be desperate enough to put a pistol to his head in a moment of despair.

Bill needed a way to bring Dipper OUT, rather than try to go IN. But how could—

His musings were interrupted by a shift in energy from the bubble corner. He turned to see Mabel's bubble rippling and pulsing, the Shooting Star sign having been burned and flaked off a day ago, but was now burning back in a bright pink blaze.

Bill had never been witness to a 'birthing' of his kind besides his own, but even then the details were sketchy. He expanded his size and took the bubble in his hands, feeling an instinctive push to sift some of his own energy into it, like an encouraging call to help bring her out.

The bubble rippled again before expanding rapidly and then imploding, leaving a sparking, glowing shapeless light hovering in his hands. The shape twisted and shifted before taking a familiar humanoid form, curled up in a little ball of pulsing pink energy. The light faded to reveal a completely human-looking Mabel, wearing a pink sweater and a pink skirt, hovering curled up between his hands like she was asleep.

_**"Hello, Shooting Star,"**_ Bill found himself crooning, slipping into an eldritch mental language. _**"Time to wake up now."**_

Mabel slowly uncurled, lifting her head toward him and opening her eyes. Bill saw that the whites of her eyes were black, her irises bright pink and pupils star-shaped. He smiled internally at what a childish image she had chosen for herself, wanting to retain her adorableness.

He held no preconceived notions of a lack of power, however. Her energy was practically numbing his hands with how strongly it was thrumming, and was inwardly surprised at how she was able to keep this humanlike form without the image shattering. In all truthfulness, geometrics were the easiest forms to take to contain the limitless energy that made his kind up. He wrote it off as her origins being human, and this being a form that was simple to understand and adapt to.

Mabel uncurled completely and stood up in his palm, staring up at him, curiosity gleaming in her eyes in a minor existential crisis. He decided to help alleviate it.

"Would you like the long version of things, or the short?" he asked. Mabel seemed to weigh her options.

"…short," she replied. Bill reached up and tapped her head, giving her the lifetime-in-a-second blow-by-blow. Unlike Stanford or Stanley, her reaction was simply an extra-long blink as she processed it all. "…So…that makes you my great-grandpa."

"…If you want to put human terms to it, sure, why not?" Bill replied, shrugging. "You seem to be taking it well."

"I've seen the darkest corners of my own mind expanded out into something so real I could almost taste it," Mabel said sagely. "So finding out I have a new relative wasn't the weirdest part of all this." She sat down in his palm, tucking her sweater over her knees. "…And anyway, if you wanted to hurt me or get rid of me, you would've done it while I was in the bubble, right?"

"You're perceptive. I like that. And you're right. The way I figure it, a party's only as good as the guests, right? So why not take the four people I actually find amusing and somewhat likable and give 'em a chance to be proper guests to the party? It's only a bonus that you four happen to be relatives."

"Makes sense," Mabel nodded, glancing over at the other two bubbles in the room. "…I know we were just learning about genetics and stuff in school, but shouldn't Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford have come out before me since they're more demon than I am?"

"Eh, that's true," Bill replied, eyeing the bubbles himself. "But let's face it kid, you're way more accepting of your own weirdness than they are. Sixer has some hang-ups about his hands and Fez has a lot of internalized self-hatred, so naturally it would take a little more time for them to accept themselves, new as they're going to be."

Mabel sighed, tucking her hands under her chin. "How sad," she replied. "So Grunkle Ford's a genetic anomaly, and Grunkle Stan's a lying, cheating con artist. Doesn't make me love 'em any less."

"You can tell 'em that when they come out," Bill said, holding Mabel up higher. "Until then, I need your help making this family reunion a little more complete. Pine Tree's locked himself inside the Shack, and I cant get to him. But something tells me YOU can." He set her down, tucking his arms behind his back. "So how's about it, Shooting Star? Wanna go talk some sense into your brother and show him it's not so bad bein' bad?"

Mabel stood upright, looking between Bill and the bubbles before nodding, levitating off the floor with a smile. "Sure thing," she replied. "Dipper's scared now, but once he sees what he'll be capable of, he'll come around! He's too curious NOT to!" She did a little spin in the air, giggling. "Hey, I like flying!"

"Then fly yourself off to the Shack," Bill said. "Get him to come out, talk some sense into him, and we'll get him into the incubator." He rubbed his hands together eagerly. "I'm interested to know what manner of creature HE could turn out to be…"

"Probably something gross. He needs to shower more." Mabel levitated higher. "Take care of the Grunkles! Poke 'em with a stick, that should hurry 'em up!" That said, she flew out of the window, of course letting out the necessary "WEEEEEEEEEEE!" as she went.

Bill resisted the urge to clap his hands like a giddy schoolgirl and let out a 'WEEEEEEE' of his own. He was right! He was RIGHT! Shooting Star UNDERSTOOD when she came out! He could only IMAGINE what the Stan brothers would be like when THEY came out!

Time would only tell.


	4. Chapter 4

Dipper Pines hunkered back in the TV room of the Shack, surrounded by weapons amassed by both his Grunkles that he'd had to learn to use on the fly, and he still had the bruises on his arms and cheeks from the kick to show for it.

The monsters had all but stopped coming for him for the past couple of days, but he wasn't being too careful. He set loud alarms that would wake him up from his allotted two hours of sleep and made patrols around the windows to make sure nothing was coming close enough to put a kink in the wards.

He wasn't an idiot. With his family MIA and the journals gone, he had no chance of stopping this. The best that he could do was stay here with the guns, the stock of food, and his walkie talkie with the hopes that even if Mabel didn't pick up, SOMEONE would.

Dipper had hoped that at least Grunkle Stan would come back, but even he was missing. He feared that his Grunkle had been out in the woods when everything went to hell, and now ANYTHING could have happened to him. Dipper was just thankful that there was plenty of ammunition to spare, since Ford's weapons had to be routinely recharged.

He couldn't keep living like this. Hunkered back in this house, a gun constantly in his hands, losing out on sleep, waiting for the end of it all. But he didn't want to be caught by Bill and subjected to whatever sadistic torture the demon had in mind.

His eyes drifted wearily to the electronic watch he'd found, the only way for him to tell time in this eternal state of red-skied dusk, his throat closing up slightly when he saw that it was—technically—11:22 at night, August 30th.

It was his birthday in about thirty minutes.

He leaned back against the chair, his eyes clenched shut to keep the tears from welling up. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be celebrating his birthday with Mabel tomorrow, not barricading himself in this house, armed to the teeth and waiting for the end, whatever or however it may be.

Despite his efforts, a choked sob crawled up his throat. He pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face against them, a pistol shaking in his hand. He didn't want to be alone on his birthday, or for the rest of his life. He didn't want to keep suffering like this, without any of his family here for him.

He let out a wail of despair, tears streaming down his face as he finally broke down, unable to take it anymore. He wanted his family! He wanted his sister! He wanted this all to just END!

His hand tightened around the pistol, a dark, flickering thought passing over his brain. It would be quick, right? It's what he'd heard. That it was one of the quickest ways to go? It was better than starving to death, or being torn apart and eaten by monsters, or whatever torture Bill would dish out to him.

Dipper raised his head, swallowing hard as he contemplated the weapon in his hand. Could he even get the nerve to do it? Would he feel any pain? Would it really make all of this better?

If…by some coincidence his family was dead…would he see them again?

He chewed his lip until he tasted blood, weighing his options over slowly, jumping when the alarm on his watch signaled that it was time for another sweep of the property from the house. He wiped his eyes, forcing himself to his feet and swapping out the pistol for a shotgun.

One more sweep. Just one more.

He glanced out the windows, still seeing no monsters in sight. He finished off his rounds at the gift shop window, taking a glance out before doing a double-take.

No.

No, it couldn't be…

Out in the bleak darkness of the world was a figure in pink, hurrying up to the Shack, shouting something.

_"…ipper!"_

Dipper scrubbed his face to wake himself up more, looking out the window again. It was still there.

_"Dipper! DIPPER!"_

_MABEL!_

Dipper threw open the door and stumbled out onto the back porch, able to see clearly now that it WAS Mabel, hurrying up to the Shack, her pink sweater shining like a bright beacon of hope in this world of monsters—

WAIT.

He raised the gun, panic surging through his veins. "STOP!" he shouted shrilly, his voice cracking from fear and disuse. "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!"

'Mabel' skidded to a halt, looking at him pleadingly. "Dipper! It's ME!" she said. "C'mon, bro-bro, don't you recognize me?"

"DON'T pull that crap!" Dipper snapped, his hands shaking nevertheless with the horrible thought that maybe he COULD be pointing a gun at his sister. But there were alarms going off in his head. That wasn't the sweater she was wearing when she vanished. She was too CLEAN for being out in this world for a week. But here she was! COULD it be her…?

"Dipper, it's me," 'Mabel' said, reaching out her hand but staying where she was. "Please, trust me!"

Dipper let out a bark of hysterical laugh, feeling tears well up again. "T…trust you…?" he stammered, choking back a sob. "F…for god's sakes, Mabel…LOOK AROUND US! Does it LOOK like I can TRUST anything that's right in front of me?!" He shifted his shoulder forward to use his sleeve to wipe at his tears, not taking the gun off of her. "What I want is PROOF!"

'Mabel' was silent for a few long moments, her hands playing with the hem of her sweater. "…I don't know what I can say," she finally said. "…other than…back that day, you HURT me." Her voice creaked, going quiet. "After everything this summer, you were just going to leave me behind…"

She reached into a pocket of her sweater and took out a walkie talkie, holding it up. "I needed you that day! To tell me that we were going to face everything together, to BE there for each other! But what does any of THAT matter now?" She threw the walkie talkie to the ground before stomping on it hard. "We've never been apart for so long before, Dipper!" She held out her hand again. "…So let's not make it any longer."

Dipper was almost blinded by his tears, his hands shaking even harder before he dropped the shotgun, wiping at his eyes as he cried like a child. "M…Mabel…!" he stuttered, hurrying off of the porch and away from the Shack, running to his sister and hugging her tightly. "Mabel, I'm so sorry! I didn't…I didn't mean for ANY of this to happen! I NEVER wanted to hurt you like that, I SWEAR—!"

Mabel hugged him back, squeezing him tightly. "Most awkward of sibling hugs," she said, smiling. "It's okay, broseph…really. We're together again…and not a moment too soon! We're going to be together for our birthday after all!"

Dipper hugged her tighter, smiling. "Yeah…" he said, sniffling. "Yeah, we will. We'll….we'll get through this, Mabel…I promise."

"I know," Mabel replied before leaning back, beaming. "Ugh, you're a mess. Let's fix that right up for you!" She stepped back and flicked his chest, and Dipper yelped when his torn, dirty clothes were out-of-the-dryer fresh, his skin no longer grimy and hair cleaner than he'd had it in what felt like forever.

"WHOA—!" he cried, stumbling back. "HOW—Mabel, what did you—" He broke off when he looked up and got a good look at her eyes, which were glowing bright pink, the pupils very distinct star shapes. He felt the blood drain from his face and his legs turn to jelly. "What…did you…do…?"

"I fixed you up, duh!" Mabel replied. "Just one of the neat little perks I got! I'm still getting used to it. You will too!" She beamed more brightly, levitating off the ground from sheer giddiness it seemed. "So come on, bro-bro! Let's get going! Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford are waiting for us!"

Dipper took a shaky step backwards, his legs almost giving out from terror. "…w…waiting for us…where…?" he stammered, taking another step back and bumping into something solid that wasn't there before, freezing up.

"A poignant question, Pine Tree," came that horribly chilling voice from right behind him. "And let me answer that with THIS!" There was a snap of fingers, and Dipper found himself staring at two large bubbles, one dark red with a golden Six-Fingered Hand sealed in the middle, and the other dark gold with a red Crescent seal.

Dipper felt his heart drop when he recognized the symbols, and jumped violently when Bill's arm curled around his shoulder.

"Sixer and Fez are almost done incubating," Bill said, his tone of voice almost proud and anticipating. "Took 'em long enough. Shooting Star was finished before them, and she had less to work with!" He tightened his hold around Dipper, feeling the boy's legs give out from under him. "Buuuuuut, I think that Fez might be the next to come out!"

Mabel squealed, hovering up to Stanley's bubble and hugging it. "C'mon out, Grunkle Stan!" she sang. "We're all here now!"

"…In…incubating…." Dipper muttered, staring at the bubbles. "…they're…they're in there…why are they…why are they incubating…?"

"Excellent question, Pine Tree," Bill said, flicking his hand to keep Dipper levitating next to him as he expanded in size and took Stanley's bubble into his hands. "Unfortunately, you're too mentally weak to take the whole story all at once, so I'll give you the abridged version. I'm your great-grandfather! THAT makes Stanford and Stanley and even your grandfather Sherman the carriers of my lineage, and ergo in facto, you and Shooting Star my descendants!"

Dipper felt the icy-hot wave of nausea in his insides churn around, his head going swimmy. That couldn't be true…it just couldn't be…it was impossible for that to be…

"Oooh, Bill, look!" Mabel squealed, poking at Stanford's bubble. "He's ready too!" She beamed up at Bill, her pink eyes shining. "Do you think they'll be ready at the exact same time!?"

Bill waved his hand, summoning Stanford's bubble to it, looking between them. "It's a close call, Shooting Star," he said, actually feeling excitement for this. His eye gleamed with anticipation as he watched the red and gold bubbles pulse and glimmer, like they were having a race to see who could finish first.

Dipper stared at the bubbles, his body shaking as it hovered in the air, watching the two bubbles shimmer and pulse before expanding outward and then retracting inward, leaving two shapeless masses in Bill's palms.

Those shapeless things used to be his great-uncles. His Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford were gone. He felt tears run down his face, feeling the overwhelming hopelessness and despair wash over him again. Bill had taken his family after all, and this was Dipper's torture, watching the shapeless things shift and reform into something…different.

Bill kept his attention on the 'newborns' in his palms, watching them reform with intense curiosity. In his left palm was Stanley, whose dark gold glowing form faded to black and humanoid. The reshaping faded, and Stanley sat himself up, showing his body form to be reminiscent to his early thirties. His fingers ended in sharp claws, and he had TWO sets of eyes, all four glowing gold without pupils. Golden veins ran over his skin, looking like tiny rivers of molten lava, heat radiating from his body like anything that touch it would catch on fire. Steam escaped his lips when he exhaled, and his lips drew back to show dozens of needlelike teeth.

In Bill's right palm, Stanford's form darkened until the red color was almost black, the form far from humanoid. It instead resembled a writhing mass of tendrils that squirmed and expanded out, the ends testing the air and firmness of Bill's hand before curling back in, clumping together to form something akin to a long torso and two spindly arms. Out of the writhing mass on top of the torso, Stanford's face emerged, but only his face. Where the rest of his head should be was only a mass of blackness that sifted like a clump of thick smoke. When he opened the eyes on his face, ten more eyes opened in the air around his 'head', all blinking and rotating about of their own individual accord. The eyes were all different colors, running the gamut of green, blue, brown, red, and gold, each one honing in on a different point of interest.

Mabel's squeal of delight pretty much summed up Bill's feelings on the issue, allowing him to maintain some dignity. For hybrid abominations, they were absolutely PERFECT! He held his hands higher, his eye gleaming. "Well aren't you just aces!" he exclaimed. "Didn't I tell ya? NOW look at you!"

Stanley looked over his hands and his body before standing, his eyes flashing a brighter gold as his signature Mr. Mystery suit appeared on his body, tailored to perfection. "Much better," he said, his voice having a smoother texture to it. He glanced over at Ford, snorting. "At least you kept your pretty face, Ford."

All twelve of Ford's eyes glowered at Stan, and then rolled in conjunction as the six-way-split tentacles that made up his arms and fingers shifted experimentally. "Yes, Stanley," he replied, his voice overlaid with several echoes on top of the other, "at least _I_ kept the pretty face."

Stanley bared his mouthful of teeth at Stanford. "Put some clothes on, you look like a pile of deer entrails."

"Boys, boys!" Mabel huffed, hovering between them. "Don't start fighting ALREADY! You BOTH look freakishly awesome!" She pulled them to her in a glow of pink, hugging them both. "Now we're all together again! Isn't it GREAT!? Right, Dipper?"

Dipper was staring with a mix of revulsion and horror, his face chalk pale and soaked with tears. His hands were shaking by his sides, paralyzing panic locking his body up as he felt what little hope and sense in his mind smother and die.

"Aww, I don't think Pine Tree is all too happy, Shooting Star," Bill said, plucking the boy up out of the air to hold him at eye-level. "Seriously, Pine Tree, I don't know WHAT you're so upset about. Your family is here, in perfect health, and eager to be together." He glanced to the side, seeing Stanley and Stanford practically rearing like rival cats over Mabel's head. "…Somewhat. But in ANY case, it's not like we're leaving you out of the happy reunion, you know."

Dipper curled up on himself, his nails digging into the flesh of his arms as he shook his head with disbelief. "….this isn't happening…" he kept muttering over and over, his eyes wide with panic and fading sanity.

Bill rolled his eye, waving his hand and sending Dipper over to the trio off to the side. "Yeah, I don't have the patience for this," he muttered. "You've got five minutes to convince him, or I'm calling it a lost cause."

He immediately had three—technically nine because of Stanford and Stanley—pairs of eyes snapped onto him at the statement. Stanford's body tendrils expanded threateningly, Stanley's teeth were bared, and black matter seeped from Mabel's eyes instead of pink, a triple-threat aura of possession and warning emitted from all three.

Mabel reached out and snatched her brother out of the air, her jovial expression turning demonically murderous as she held him tightly. **"ALL OF US OR NONE OF US,"** she growled at Bill, the normal girlish tone being overshadowed by a resonating baritone in a familial likeness to his own. On either side of her, the Pines Twins the Elder looked tensed and ready to tear something apart, inhuman growls resonating through the air between them.

Dipper's head shakily raised enough to see over Mabel's shoulder, feeling that smothered spark of hope rekindle somewhat. His sister was holding him. His Grunkles were protecting him. And if it wasn't his imagination…Bill looked apprehensive. He WAS aware that he was behind held a good distance up in the air, and curled his arms around Mabel tightly, just as a precaution.

Bill narrowed his eye, staring at the Pines before him, his absentminded query of whether or not the family ties would still be there being answered. Mabel, Stanley, and Stanford seemed content and comfortable in their new skins, almost eager for their new lives, only to snap back into enemy mode at the mention of anything happening to Dipper. The only difference was, as they were now, they could actually do some damage.

He weighed his options and found, to no surprise, that keeping them together was his best bet.

With an exaggerated sigh, Bill raised his hands almost placatingly. "Jeeze, cool your jets, all of you!" he said. "I said I'd call it a lost cause, not that I'd chuck the kid into a fire pit." He put his hands on his sides, honing in on Dipper this time. "Choice is yours, Pine Tree," he said. "The family is all here, and you're one snooze away from being on the same tier. So what's it gonna be?"

A strange combination of hope and hopelessness made an odd cocktail in Dipper's brain. His family was here, albeit a hot mess of demonic forms, and no hope for the human race to be seen on the horizon. But he actually had a place here, among the gods and monsters.

…with his family.

Dipper lifted his head, looking Bill in the eye, his resolution returning. "…I want to be with my family," he said, raising his hand in a facsimile of sealing his fate like a deal. "I'll do it."

Bill cackled, waving his hand, taking Dipper from Mabel's hold and into his own. "Good choice, kiddo," he said. "You wont regret this."

Dipper glanced back at the monstrosities that was his family, then back to Bill, suddenly feeling like the only REAL freak among everything else. And he wanted that to change. "…we'll see," he said, closing his eyes. "Do it."

Bill cupped his hands around Dipper's body, putting the boy to sleep and encasing him in a dark blue bubble, sealed with the sign of the Pine Tree. He held the bubble carefully, looking up at the other three Pines, who seemed to calm themselves somewhat. "Well, that's that," he announced. "Back to the Fearamid, folks! Time to crank the party up WORLDWIDE!"

Mabel squealed, doing a mid-air somersault before flying up to Dipper's bubble and settling on top of it, pressing her cheek to the surface. "Wake up soon, bro-bro," she said. "I don't want you being left out of everything!"

"Oh, trust me, Shooting Star, he wont miss much," Bill replied, lazily making his way back to his fortress. "He'll be incubated and out before you know it." He glanced back at the other two demi-demons trailing behind. "…You might want to go break the twins up before their birthday becomes their deathday."

Mabel rolled her eyes. "Okaaaaaaaay," she droned out, levitating up. "Take good care of my bro-bro, mkay?" She levitated up and then proceeded to give him a loud kiss on one of his edges before hurrying to break up her arguing Grunkles.

Bill grimaced slightly, rubbing the area where she'd kissed him. That was unnecessarily saccharine, he thought as he teleported back to the Fearamid, passing up his friends and associates, who all began staring and snickering.

"…What is it?" he demanded. Pyronica giggled, batting her lashes.

"Looooooove the color, Bill!" she tittered. "Works so well with your eye!"

Color? What—

He looked down at his body, seeing that it was now a bright fluorescent pink. His eye twitched.

" _ **SHOOTING STAR!"**_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ford's demon design belongs to owlapinart on tumblr. Other designs are my own.


	5. Chapter 5

Global discord was a process, but it was something to gradually enjoy as it happened. Bill and his crew enjoyed seeing the major national landmarks and taking before-and-after selfies with them. His personal favorite was Egypt, taking a selfie with the pyramids with the caption _'Me with the fam'_. He then proceeded to turn them into his personal vacation home and relocate them right smack dab in the middle of Cairo.

He was just lucky there was an established cult dedicated to his honor to keep them clean while he was having fun elsewhere. Good help was so hard to find during the End Times.

While he and his crew traipsed around the world, the Pines instead elected to remain in Gravity Falls, which, in retrospect, was a good thing. A handful of his friends had readily welcomed the new abominable additions to the party, while a select few were less than receiving. They were the ODG-type, not very receptive of hybrids at all.

Teeth made the mistake of asking if he could still eat Dipper within earshot of Stanley, who proceeded to tear every tooth from the monster's body and then beat what was left to pulp with gauntlets forged from the molten gold and fire that ran through his veins. When he was finished, several of Stanford's tendrils snaked over what remained and seemed to absorb the pulpy mess into his body, all twelve of his eyes flickering with the curiosity he was internally studying.

And Bill sat back just to watch. Certainly, it was a necessity for his Fez and Sixer to establish themselves in the pecking order as soon as possible in order to make their places in the group known. He also wanted to see a bit of the extent of which the boys were capable of, and he was so far interested.

He didn't want to put his domination on hold just to watch them, however, so he let them remain to their own devices while he traveled, letting them develop on their own.

Time—dead as it was—passed and he took a break to return to Gravity Falls to check up on their progress.

The first thing he noticed was that most of his established weirdness was absent, save for the giant floating Fearamid in the dead center of the area, and the place looked less desolate and dystopian. It almost looked….normal.

Ugh, that word left a bad taste in his body.

It didn't take long to sense out his familial energy, and found Stanford first. The demi-demon was situated in a reformed library which had physics bent over sideways by being MASSIVE on the inside while retaining a relatively normal outside appearance. Books upon books were on the shelves, scrolls and tablets rearranging themselves here and there like the organizational methods were constantly being reevaluated, and in the middle of it all was Stanford himself, his right hand busy with writing in a familiar journal with the number **6** on it, the left holding a cup of tea, and the tendrils of his body holding no less than six books while the eyes around his head read them simultaneously.

Bill's earlier assumption of Stanford being a demon that craved knowledge was correct, it seemed. The man was collecting it and amassing it into more journals, a pursuit that would last for an eternity. From the fully-content look on Stanford's face, Bill could guess that it would be a blissful eternity.

It wasn't even a guess as to where Stanley was. Bill beelined right for the Mystery Shack, and found it in pristine condition. Surprisingly, he found Soos and Wendy inside as well, unchanged and looking well, if not traumatized and world-weary. One glance at them, and Stanley proclaimed them 'his', and were not to be touched.

Come to find, quite a few stragglers that had managed to hide from the henchbats were found inside, which, like Stanford's library, was also much bigger on the inside. Not only was the tour section still there—this time with real attractions, no less—but it was also outfitted like a luxury casino. Unlike Soos and Wendy, who looked…well, THEMSELVES…the other people inside looked almost enchanted by the ordeal, desperate even.

It took some watching to realize that Stanley hadn't brought them here out of the goodness of his molten-gold heart, but there was a price to being here. He was selling spots in here in exchange for anything valuable they could find. Bill had a feeling the Northwest Mansion had been raided like nobody's business because of this.

But it wasn't pay-once. They had to keep paying to stay. Hence the casino. Those who couldn't pay—or somehow invoked Stanley's wrath—risked being turned into either gold for him to devour, or some ungodly attraction for his tour.

All in all, it seemed like a brilliant racket going, and Bill approved 100%.

Mabel, on the other hand, had shanghaied his Fearamid for her own, and brought back her friends that he had turned to stone for company. All in all, Pacifica, Candy, and Grenda seemed to be taking the whole Weirdmageddon-BFF-turned-into-a-demon thing very well. He just wished there was much less pink, kittens, glitter, and boy band posters everywhere.

"You've made yourself right at home, haven't you?" Bill asked, looming over the girls. Pacifica naturally ducked behind Grenda, having not taken having her father's facial rearrangement very well, but Mabel didn't seem so concerned.

"It was just floating here, doing NOTHING," she replied, not skipping a beat in applying a nice shade of blue nail polish to Candy's nails. "Grunkle Stan said I'm not allowed in the casino until I'm 18, and Grunkle Ford doesn't even have TV in his library, so I stayed here. The glitter makes it an improvement."

Bill rolled his eye, crossing his arms. "You're just lucky I like you, Shooting Star, or I'd drop-kick you into the sun."

Mabel beamed up at him, her smile as sweet as a piece of arsenic-laced candy. "You'd have to get past the Grunkles first," she replied, a deadly tease sprinkling her voice. "They might get along like cats and dogs, but…well, you were there when Teeth had a slip-up." She re-dipped the nail polish and started on another of Candy's nails.

"But you wouldn't REALLY kick me into the sun, Great-Grampa Bill. You like me too much. You've fallen trap for my adorableness and very real backed-up threats. Face it, you're stuck with me."

Damn it to the Nth Dimension, she was right. He narrowed his eye at her. "Of all the descendants, you had to get the most of me," he grumbled. "Am I REALLY this annoying?"

"Nope. You're worse. But unlike YOU, people actually LIKE me."

"If I had a heart, it'd be bleeding, Shooting Star, truly you wound me."

"You'll be fine." She finished Candy's nails, sitting back. "But since you're here, you could at least check on Dipper's bubble."

Bill's eye trailed upward on the pedestal, where his Pine Tree's bubble was resting. The bubble had expanded slightly, speckled with pinpricks of light that resembled stars, the sign of the Pine Tree glowing with a soft pulsing white light.

It was almost a month now in regular-time, much longer than anyone was hoping for. Bill wasn't especially surprised, though. Dipper had quite the existential crisis to work out in there, and it really WAS only a matter of time.

However, looking at it now…

Bill slipped up to the bubble, expanding his size and taking it in his hands. The bubble shimmered in his hold, almost like it was asking permission to come out, like a timid baby deer. Oh, wouldn't it just be hilarious if Pine Tree turned out to be a soft, timid creature, unlike the rest of the family?

He fed some of his own energy to the bubble, smiling internally when it was reciprocated, the bubble trembling in his hand as the incubation process was completed. The bubble began to constrict and fade, leaving behind a formless little ball of energy that seemed almost TOO small, too formless.

Well this was concerning. Perhaps he'd let the boy incubate for too long. The little ball of energy trembled almost fearfully in Bill's hands, unwilling to reform.

"Oh no…" Mabel mumbled, frowning. "He's scared." She perked up a little. "I know what you need, bro-bro! Some family bonding time!" She stuck her head out of the Fearamid window, shouting at the top of her lungs in an earthquake-like demonic baritone, **"GRUNKLE STAN! GRUNKLE FORD! TO THE FEARAMID, CHOP-CHOP!"**

Bill snorted. "You think they'll drop everything and come right away?" he asked dubiously. Mabel glanced back at him, her expression sweet but eyes sharp as razors.

"They will if they know what's good for them," she replied, and indeed, moments later, Stanley appeared in the room in a flash of fire while Stanford slithered out of the shadows, looking mildly annoyed at having his studies interrupted, even if his tendrils and eyes were occupying themselves with two different books.

"What's the word, Mabel?" Stanley asked before catching sight of the formless energy mass in Bill's hands. "He's out? Why is he like that? WHY isn't he forming?!" He glowered at Bill like it was HIS fault, and Bill returned the glower.

"Cool your jets, Fez, he's just anxious," he muttered, lowering his hands to show the elder Pines Twins. "Maybe you three can ease him out a bit."

Stanley gently took the little energy form, holding it in his arms. "Just like when you were born the first time, having your cord wrapped around your neck," he muttered. "You cant be born easily into this world, can you, kid?" He smiled at the energy mass in his arms, which shimmered slightly.

"It's probably that reason that he's having trouble now," Stanford remarked, slithering a tendril over the energy mass. "Being reborn was possibly a déjà vu to his first birth. He doesn't know how to 'breathe' on his own."

Mabel leaned her cheek against where she guessed the 'head' would be on the energy form, smiling. "C'mon, bro-bro," she murmured, petting at the prickling energy. "You're strong. You made it last time, you can do it again. We're all here waiting for you."

Being coddled by his family seemed to do the trick. The shimmering mass of energy quivered before it started to take a slightly more humanoid shape, expanding to the size of a twelve-year-old boy, albeit with longer, more spindly limbs and unnaturally-long fingers that ended in tapers with no nails. Other than that, he looked as he had before his incubation, save for the absence of his birthmark. In its place was a deep-looking line that spread across the span of his forehead.

Mabel beamed, hugging at him. "C'mon, wake up, Dipper!" she exclaimed. "We wanna see you!" At her voice, Dipper shifted in Stanley's hold, but instead of his eyes opening, the line on his forehead separated, spreading wider until a huge, golden eye was opened onto his forehead, the pupil slitted and constricting as it shifted around, taking note of everyone around him.

"…M…Mabel…?" he murmured, the eye blinking hard. "…Grunkle Stan? Great-Uncle Ford?" He sat up in Stanley's hold, rubbing his head.

"You doin' alright, kid?" Stanley asked, all four of his eyes narrowing in concern. Dipper nodded, looking down at his spindly hands.

"….yeah," he replied. "Just…weird. REALLY weird." His eye flicked around at his family again. "Really….REALLY weird."

"You're not so normal yourself there, Pine Tree," Bill retorted, rolling his eye, inwardly smirking at Dipper having a glaring similarity to him in the eye area. "At least with that gaping eye of yours, no one will questions whose gene pool you've been swimming in."

Dipper grimaced. "Didn't need or want a reminder," he muttered, shifting out of Stanley's hold to stand up on his own legs. "…So…this is what it's like," he said to himself. "…What I REALLY am…"

"Eh, you get used to it," Stanley said, slinging his arm around Dipper's shoulders. "At least you're not a walking pile of entrails." Stanford glowered at him, snapping out a tendril to knock the fez off of his twin's head.

"At least I'm getting the most out of my abilities rather than running ANOTHER tourist trap," he shot back. "A CASINO, Stanley! LIMITLESS POTENTIAL, and you open a CASINO!"

Mabel rolled her eyes, taking Dipper's arm and leading him off. "Best to not be in the way when they start up," she said, grinning. "It's funny, but sometimes they can get destructive."

Dipper nodded, noting that even Bill was surreptitiously tailing them to get out of the danger zone. He glanced over and saw Grenda, Candy, and Pacifica some distance away, looking both interested and terrified. "…so you're keeping them here?" he asked. Mabel nodded, smiling.

"Yeah. What's the use of eternal fun time without friends?" She beamed, hurrying over with him, pushing him forward. "Here's the new and improved Dipper, girls! Isn't he just a dreamboat now?"

"MABEL!" Dipper hissed, blushing hard, his eye flicking here and there for possible escape routes on instinct.

"Eh, he's a little thin for me," Grenda replied, giving Dipper a helpful look. "But if your beefcake great-uncle Stan is single, we can talk then."

"EWWWW, you're BAD, Grenda!" Mabel squealed.

"Beefcake is nice, but the intellectual, eldritch abomination type is more my speed," Candy put in, fighting to keep a straight face.

"STOP, STOP!" Mabel cried, laughing so hard she fell over. "You're all gross and horrible, those are my GRUNKLES!" She formed sleepover pillows out of thin air, throwing them at her friends.

Dipper wisely edged to the side out of the line of fire, finding himself sitting next to Pacifica, who was pale and giving him side glances. He swallowed, twiddling his thumbs, sitting in awkward silence with her as he watched his sister and two of her friends have a pillow fight that seemed WAY more violent than the catfight his Grunkles were having across the room.

"…Um. Hi," he said, chewing his lip slightly. Pacifica hugged her knees tighter.

"…hi," she replied. More silence. "…Your…uh….eye is big."

"Eeyup."

"Nice. I meant to say nice."

"…thanks."

Awkward silence. The pillow fight turned into an all-out war, and Dipper deftly reached up and grabbed a bottle of nail polish out of the air before it pinged Pacifica in the head, tossing it away.

"Mabel's gonna protect you, you know," Dipper said quietly. "You…Candy, Grenda, Wendy, Soos…we'll protect you."

Pacifica nodded quietly. "…I know," she replied, giving Bill a side-glare through her curtain of hair. "…that doesn't mean I have to like it or be grateful for it."

Dipper nodded, understanding. "…if you ever need a break from Mabel's glitter-bomb fun time…I'm pretty sure Great-Uncle Ford would let us have some quiet time wherever he is. His…um…body just makes him look weirder than he actually is." He pursed his lips when the aforementioned and supposedly more mature of his great-uncles suplexed the other into the ground. "…Or, you know, staying here is fine."

"Dipper…at this point, I'm too numb to care about that," Pacifica replied, rubbing her arms before looking him in the eye. "Just promise me something, okay? Promise me that…you'll always be Dipper…and Mabel will always be Mabel. Can…you do that? Please?"

He stared at her for a moment, the pupil of his eye dilating to a more human shape for a moment before he nodded, holding out his hand. "Deal." He yelped when a blue flame popped up in his palm, shaking his hand vigorously to extinguish it. "Nevermind, nevermind!" He tucked his hands under his arms, his face red. "…um…you've got it."

Up on his pedestal, Bill snorted and reclined back to observe his 'family's' antics, feeling oddly content. Maybe it was his 'children' seeing who could subdue the other more creatively, or Shooting Star having a glitter-paint-pillow fight with her just-as-odd friends, or seeing his timid little Pine Tree awkwardly reassure a potential mortal mate, but either way, he could get used to this.

He sputtered when a large glob of pink glittery paint smacked him right in the front, almost knocking him off the pedestal. He banished it away, grumbling. Pink. It was ALWAYS PINK.


	6. Chapter 6

In a world where time was dead, it was difficult to place how long exactly Bill's reign was, but nobody seemed to be complaining. In what was left of the little blue planet called Earth, anyone who mattered had their places set, and anyone else either accepted it, or didn't even have the option of death to fall back on.

The remaining humans knew the pecking order by this point. Highest on the tier was their Lord and Master, a triangular creature named Bill Cipher. Not so threatening to look at, until he was dishing out punishments to uprisings or shouting eldritch curses at those one rung below on the tier for either embarrassing him or taking his spotlight.

The tier below him held four oddities known collectively as the Pines. There was no determination between them of who was more powerful, since they all seemed to have different skill sets to call upon. Personally, though Stanford Pines looked and behaved more like a demonic entity, it was the adorable girl Mabel Pines who displayed the most creative and destructive show of power, even to the point where Bill wouldn't contradict her workings.

So far, the best bet for survival was down to the Pines. Whether it was gambling with one's literal life at Stanley's casino, working with knowledge retrieval for Stanford, or attending one of Mabel's chintzy parties, it was better than the alternatives that would befall those who came into the hands of Bill's 'friends'.

Soon, though, even humanity had its fall, save for the very few that had become honorable additions to Team Pines. By that time, there was hardly anything 'human' left to be called of them. Human concepts like time or reason meant nothing to them anymore, and they instead spent their existences with their respective sponsors.

Soos and Wendy still worked at Stanley's casino and tourist trap, now enjoying their work and all the perks that came with it. Soos had fun creating more attractions and working on some tours, and Wendy found her niche in the security department, keeping a diligent eye out on humans who tried to escape without paying and dishing out punishment. More often than naught, would-be escapees preferred the prospect of being turned into gold and devoured rather than being cornered by a Corduroy with an axe.

Somewhere along the line in the world, Stanford found his old friend Fiddleford, who was close to death and having gone even madder from the chaos. It was with a modicum of guilt and pity that Stanford took his old friend in, using methods found within his findings to heal the man's frail body, turn back the biological clock, and mend his broken mind. It was a long and very delicate process, but by the end of it, Fiddleford Hadron McGucket was put back together, physically thirty years old again, and given back enough sanity to sit back and listen to what Stanford had to offer. By the end of things, Fiddleford became Stanford's research partner again, giving them both the company and socialization that Mabel told Stanford he desperately needed.

Grenda, Candy, and Pacifica remained in Mabel's tightly-knit group, forever twelve years old and in constant sleepover mode. Even when things seemed to be getting a little stale, Bill teaching Mabel how to jump dimensions into other worlds proved just the thing needed to keep her friends entertained. Worlds of odd fashion, makeup, and musical tastes became open to their hands, and Bill began to regret teaching dimensional jumps when his Fearamid became overrun with, to no real surprise, MORE pink.

While Grenda and Candy readily welcomed the dreamlike chaos, Pacifica's more pragmatic mindset kept her more grounded and wanting for less Eternal Sleepover Paradise and more mind-opening interdimensional discovery. It was this mindset that led her to take up Dipper's offer to take a break from the Fearamid parties and go down to the library sometimes.

She found that, like Dipper said, Stanford's image was definitely more frightening than he actually was. And at least McGucket looked human enough to not be off-putting. The only stipulation to her being there was that she put things back exactly where she found them, and didn't break anything. They were simple-enough instructions to follow, and goodness if Stanford didn't make the best tea she ever drank while she did some reading.

When even that got tedious after awhile, she packed a bag and tagged along with Dipper on one of his 'adventures'. While the other three Pines were content with staying in Gravity Falls—aside from interdimensional hopping for whatever reason—Dipper set out to explore around the world to every odd hotspot he had ever read about, and then some. Since Grunkle Stan had to work his casino, Grunkle Ford too busy amassing his knowledge collection, and Mabel dimension hopping to find new boy bands for her and her friends to listen to, Pacifica proved to be a great companion to his travels.

With the high societal pressure off of her, Pacifica found she enjoyed going on adventures just for the heck of it, and jotting down the weirdness that Bill Cipher hadn't touched. Dipper explained that whatever paranormal and weird that was already on Earth, Bill hadn't trifled around with, because 'why ruin (un)natural perfection?'.

So perhaps it was being in Gravity Falls for so long, or her run-in with some paranormal stuff in her own home, but Pacifica found a new love for the weirdness, especially the magic type. She gained the loyalty of fairies for her shiny hair and perfectly-manicured nails, drop-kicked the gnomes for trying to make her their new queen, made a Manitaur cry, and had her round of punching unicorns after a particularly messy encounter. Turns out she had a mean left hook. Who knew?

Dipper found himself fully content for the first time in his life, roaming around as he wished, doing what he wanted. The fact that he had someone by his side to help enjoy it wasn't bad either. It was nice to have someone on the same page as him, helping him out on his travels, and actively encouraging him to develop his own abilities. It was a touching concept, though Dipper was sure Pacifica meant it as a means of luxury to move things along.

Not that he was complaining much. He didn't think much of his own abilities until he found a set of symbols he'd never come across before on a cave wall. Even after Pacifica pored over the deciphering books and even took a backpack-portal trip to Stanford's library—a precaution Stanford insisted upon since the last time Dipper attempted teleportation he ended up on one of Jupiter's moons—it still brought up no answer.

After looking at it for a good long while, Dipper's eye on his forehead closed and his two normal eyes opened, and in an instant, the symbols deciphered themselves in front of his eyes. Pacifica remarked that it looked like his eyes were blank voids, until the symbols on the wall began flashing in them. Turned out the symbols spelled out a recipe for the best beef stew in the world, but Dipper was still counting that as a win.

Dipper never shirked from his family, thought. He always checked in with all of them frequently, and was never stupid enough to ignore a 'family meeting' call from Mabel. Nobody was. Not even Bill, though Dipper thought that his crystalized parents in the Fearamid were still more positive additions than Bill.

Finding their parents had been excitement, and then a somber affair. Although their father carried the Cipher lineage, he was still completely unwilling to follow the path of his uncles and children, nor was his wife. Rather than risk them being hurt, Mabel turned them into crystal statues, hoping that one day, they'd understand and maybe give it another go.

Oddly—or perhaps not so much—Dipper wasn't torn up about it. Sure, he was twelve years old eternally and his parents rejected the rest of the abominations that made up his family, but seeing the multidimensional possibilities of his existence and having access to 1/8th of unlimited energy sort of made the matter insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Plus, Mabel was right. They always could try again at some other point in time.

He absently wondered how his grandfather Sherman would have taken all this, but according to Grunkle Stan, "Shermy was down for pretty much anything", so it sort of made it all the more disappointed that Grampa Shermy wasn't alive to see this. Bill made mention of unearthing the corpse, but both Stan and Ford put their foot down…so to speak. Stan expressed that his grave-robbing days were over, and Ford simply refused to take part in necromancy. Not that their squicks on the matter would deter Bill, but he didn't press the matter anymore.

Still, Dipper was certain at some point in the future, he was going to get a surprise visit from his long-dead grandfather. Maybe some terrifying zombie demi-demon or something horrifying like that. Mabel was sure to love it.

Dipper was coming back from a mystery trip through the magical dimension, having found an open gateway in the part of the Gravity Falls forest that the magical creatures resided, glad his backpack had space displacement for storing all of his souvenirs and knowledge material for Stanford.

Pacifica had enjoyed it immensely, having been declared a princess in three different countries, punched out a few more unicorns, and picked up a good bit of magic and weapon training. She was a crack shot with a bow and arrow and was just happy she didn't have to rely on Dipper's powers to get along without some luxuries anymore.

The two of them slipped into the Fearamid, which Mabel had 'unofficially' claimed as her forever home in this dimension. Not that Bill had much say in the matter, but he found that every time he tried to take down one of Mabel's posters, two more would spring up. He just sort of gave up after awhile and accepted the fact that he was probably never going to get the glitter out of his bodily crevices.

"We're back!" Dipper announced, taking his backpack off. There was a small explosion from somewhere in the Fearamid, and he exchanged a look with Pacifica.

"…I'll…just take Stanford the scrolls," Pacifica muttered, opening her own backpack and taking the ancient and delicate scrolls through the portal into the library. Dipper snorted, but shut the backpack flap after she vanished inside, tucking it away as Mabel came flying out of a doorway and tackled him to the floor in a hug.

"YOU WERE GONE TOO LONG!" she shouted, squeezing him until he swore he heard something crack. He awkwardly patted her head.

"It wasn't THAT long, Mabel," he squeaked. "…and your kind of crushing my organs."

"Your organs are fine," she huffed, letting him go anyway, putting her hands on her hips. "And you WERE gone too long! My souvenir better be worth it!"

Dipper rolled his eye, rummaging around in his backpack before taking out a wind chime made from unicorn horns and crystals. "This worth enough?" The squeal Mabel let out as she grabbed it and hung it up over the window was answer enough. "Apparently, when light hits it just right, you get a rainbow solid enough to sit on. Thought it was pretty neat."

Mabel hugged him, beaming. "It's PERFECT," she replied. "My crew's gonna have to go there sometime!"

"May their various gods have mercy," Dipper muttered, snorted, sitting back. "Have I missed anything?" Mabel flopped back, a big beanbag chair appearing under her with a poof of glitter.

"Not much," she replied. "Though Great-Grandpa Bill seems to be extra busy for some reason."

"Totally wish you'd stop calling him that," Dipper said, shuddering. "But what's he got to be busy about?"

Mabel shrugged. "Dunno. But I sense something weird…not just with him, but with the dimension. THIS dimension." She rested her chin in her hands. "There maaaaaay have been detrimental effects of tearing open a hole from the Nightmare Dimension to this one." She glanced out the window pensively. "I think he's trying to fix the rift by himself."

Dipper frowned. "He couldn't even open a rift by himself, how the heck is he supposed to close one?" he asked. Mabel shrugged.

"I dunno. But if he cant close it, we might have to jump ship." She kicked her feet, huffing. "That would be a bummer. I love this place! But, if that's what's gotta happen…"

Dipper tapped his chin thoughtfully. "….well….Great-Uncle Ford is working on actually CREATING his own dimension," he said. "And not just the pocket dimensions that expand from a smaller source….I'm talking a dimension the size of the universe! He thinks the Infinity-sided die might be the key to it, but looking at that thing gives me a headache." He rubbed his head, thinking back to the infinite statistical probabilities that had flashed in front of his eyes the last time he looked at it, not wanting a repeat of that migraine.

"Wow….our own dimensions…" Mabel said, her eyes sparkling. "…How great would THAT be? We could ALL make our own dimensions!  _ **AND LORD OVER THEM LIKE GODS!**_ "

"…Ease up on the creep factor, Mabel. You're at a ten, I need you back to dial back to about a five, maybe four."

Mabel rolled her eyes, pouting. "You're no fun," she huffed. "But seriously, COULD you imagine it, Dipper?"

Dipper leaned back, his singular eye closing and his other two opening, replaying the multiple dimensions he'd been to, all of the languages and codes he'd cracked, even a fraction of the infinite outcomes of the die, all flashing in front of his eyes.

_A whole new dimension._

_No._

_A whole new UNIVERSE…_

He smiled, baring his sharp teeth almost hungrily at the possibilities.

Oh yes. He could imagine it.


	7. Epilogue

The Ciphers and Pines stood at the nexus of the multiverse, looking at one another in a calm, comforting silence, relishing in the last moments of one another's presence.

Their universe had come and gone, torn asunder by Bill pulling that one string loose with the rift. It had taken a very long time—millennia in human terms—but all too soon for the eternal beings they were.

Most of their companions had lived through their lives, choosing to spend what was left of their existences in the dimensions they most loved. The only one remaining was Fiddleford, who chose to remain by Stanford's side and spend all of eternity amassing all the knowledge of the multiverse. He stood quietly by his partner's side, holding a small box and a book, keeping silent in reverence of the situation.

Bill hovered quietly, staring down at the nexus, his hands folded behind his body. He had been unable to fix what he had broken long ago, and now that universe he had belonged to was gone. Only Stanford's relentless work had provided a solution for all of them, at something of a price.

Their universe was gone, but by using Stanford's methods, they would be creating NEW universes, one for each of them, just to guarantee that there would be no territorial pissing matches. However, there would be ways to visit for some extensions of time without the fear of a takeover. Not that it was expected, but it was stipulated, just in case.

Bill glanced around at his family…and that is what he could call it. Grudgingly. But still. You spend several hundred thousand years hearing your adorable descendant call you 'Great-Grandpa', you just answer to it automatically. But there had to be a modicum of fondness, or else he'd be taking this leap by himself rather than allowing the others to partake in it.

Mabel was holding her brother's hand tightly, looking more morose even than when she bid farewell to Candy and Grenda. Dipper squeezed her hand, feeling a likewise emptiness at having left Pacifica in the magical dimension to live out the rest of her existence. Stanley looked just as hard-pressed to leave his world that contained Soos and Wendy behind, warranting a comforting tendril-like hand on his shoulder from Stanford.

"We have to move on," Stanford said quietly, his eyes flickering around at everyone. "The longer we remain here, the more difficult it will be to go through with it." He held a tendril out to Fiddleford, who gave him the box. "So let's just look forward." He opened the box, taking out the Infinity-sided die, looking down at the nexus for a moment. "Ready?"

Stanley nodded. "Ready."

"Ready," Mabel intoned, squeezing Dipper's hand.

"…Ready," Dipper said assent.

"I was ready yesterday," Bill replied, examining his fingertips. "Anytime before next Big Bang, Sixer." He ignored the looks that were given him.

Stanford sighed, dropping the die into the nexus, watching a light flicker and shine brighter than a star. "…This goes without saying," he said, extending his tendrils to curl around everyone in the circle. "I'm going to miss you all."

Mabel curled her arms around his tendril. "It's not forever," she replied. "We've already seen to that!" She reached into her sweater pocket and took out a pink journal that had the seal of the Shooting Star on the front. "The fun part is wondering how it'll happen!" She beamed, dropping the journal into the nexus.

Stanford nodded, taking his own journal from Fiddleford, a rewritten work of his Journal 1, save for the plans for the portal, sealed with the Six-Fingered Hand, and dropped it in after hers. "This is true," he said.

"Bunch o' saps, makin' me wanna cry," Stanley muttered, reaching into his jacket and taking out his own journal, sealed with the Crescent. "Knowin' my luck, it'll land in Stanford's smarty-pants universe." He yelped when Stanford cracked his tendril over his backside like a whip, dropping it right into the nexus.

Dipper let out a teary laugh, tugging out his blue journal with the Pine Tree seal, running his hand over the cover for a moment before letting it drop in. "…It's been a good time," he said, his singular eye closing and his other two opening. "…See you all on the other side." He grinned, taking a running start before jumping right into the nexus.

"Heh, kid's got spunk. Totally gets it from me," Stanley said, jumping in after Dipper. Stanford rolled all eyes in tandem, taking a more dignified drop in with Fiddleford, leaving Mabel and Bill at the nexus.

Mabel smiled at Bill. "You didn't put in YOUR journal," she accused. "Too afraid of where it'll end up?"

Bill rolled his eye, snapping his fingers and forming a black journal with a golden eye in the middle. "Hardly," he replied. "But imagine the fun I'll have wherever it lands!"

"Hopefully not mine," Mabel replied, her hands coyly behind her back. "Pretty sure a single universe cant handle the BOTH of us." She hopped over, giving his front a kiss. "But I'll miss you anyway, Great-Grampa Bill. We all will. And I KNOW you'll miss us." She beamed, taking a backwards dive right into the nexus and vanishing.

Bill glanced around, alone at long last and for the first time TRULY feeling alone. Damn that brat and her ability to be correct in EVERYTHING. He dropped his journal into the nexus before following it, ready and waiting to be there for the birth of his universe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be posting a couple of little one-shots showing where everyone showed up as bonus chapters, so watch out for them!


	8. Bonus Chapter--Dipper

Gideon Gleeful lit the last of the candles before shaking the match to put it out. "Y'think that code's safe in your lab, Stanford?" he sneered, opening the journal to the page indicated, rereading through the instructions and incantation. "Well, we'll see what my new minion has to say about that."

He fought back a twinge of apprehension and made sure his Latin pronunciation was up to snuff before continuing.

_"Magister signum, Ego instigo vos, Ego autem venio ad signum insolutam dimittit, solvere!"_

He felt a clenching in his gut and a sensation of having the breath drawn out of his body, dropping the journal and doubling over, feeling a jerk as a rift of SOMETHING was opened from his body as a conduit, his mouth opening almost against his will as he began stammering gibberish. _**"SDROW LACISNESNON, SDROW LACISNESNON, SDROW LACISNESNON, SDROW LACISNESNON, SDROW LACISNESNON!"**_

A light flashed before him, and a shape that vaguely resembled a pine tree opened up in the air. A large yellow eye opened in the center and giddy, almost insane laughter rang out as something vaguely humanoid formed from the hole, pitch black save for the eye, and stood before him.

The figure stood upright and stretched, looking around. "Oh wow, Gravity Falls, it is GOOD to be back!" he exclaimed, the blackness fading to show what looked to be a humanoid teenager with long limbs and spiderlike hands, still looking almost humanly passible, save for the huge eye on his forehead. He honed in on Gideon, grinning with sharp teeth. "Name's Dipper. And I'm guessing you're some kind of little disfigured troll." He snorted at the insulted look the boy gave him. "I'm just kidding, I know who you are, Gideon!"

Gideon backed up slightly. "How…how do you know my name?!" he demanded, clenching his hands nervously.

"Oh, I know lots of things." Dipper's grin almost took up his entire face, his large eye closing and two smaller ones opening, flashing images so fast Gideon almost couldn't comprehend them. _**"Lots of things."**_ His eyes closed and his singular eye snapped open again, his grin becoming more normal. "Hey, look what I can do!"

He turned to a doe that was snuffling around at the edge of the clearing, his spindly fingers dancing slightly. The doe jerked where it stood, its body shifting to become taller and broader, antlers bursting from its head as it almost violent reformed into a buck, shaking the blood and flesh from its new antlers.

"Genetic codes are still codes, you know. Cool, huh?"

Gideon jerked back, his eyes wide. "You—you're insane!" he stammered.

Dipper snorted. "Sure I am, what's your point?" He waved his fingers again, the antlers on the deer falling off and its body becoming smaller until it was a doe again. The doe turned tail and sprinted back into the woods.

With the horror gone, Gideon clenched his hands, mustering up his nerve again. "Listen to me demon! I have a job for you! I need you to get into Stanford Pines' lab and get me his book of codes!"

Dipper rolled his eye at such a mundane task he'd been summoned for before pausing. "Wait…" He turned his back to Gideon, frowning. "…Ford Pines…" His singular eye closed and the other two opened, images of a six-fingered man coming out of a portal, playing D&D& More D, climbing into an old space ship, being turned into a gold statue flickered over his vision.

He closed his two eyes, opening his one, turning back to Gideon. "You know what, you've convinced me, I'm sold!" He walked up to Gideon, looming over him with a creepy grin. "I help you with this, and you can help me on something I've been working on. We'll work out the details later."

"Deal!" Gideon said without hesitation, holding out his hand. Dipper's grin grew broader, holding up his hand and encasing it in a blue flame, shaking Gideon's hand and enveloping both their hands with it.

"Welp, time to invade Ford's lab!" Dipper chirped, turning on heel. "This should be fun. _**Remember—reality is an illusion, the universe is a hologram, trust no one!**_ " He stepped out of the clearing and vanished as soon as he entered the borders of the forest.

As Gideon stood there pondering over what even Dipper had said, Dipper took one step out of the clearing and exited right into another, this time where a large, cozy house was situated, the outside unkempt and decorated with a variety of satellites and transmission objects. Dipper snorted, slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Wow, Grunkle Ford, how predictable can you get?" he muttered, glancing skyward as though speaking to a deity. Which he was, in a sense. "Welp, I've got a code book to steal and your mortal paradox twin to have fun with. Hope this one likes D&D& More D."

He headed up to the house, one hand slipping out of his pocket and rolling a 38-sided die between his fingers.

* * *

 

_Here's a sketch I made of Demon! Dipper.  I'll be having one for all of the Pines!_

 


	9. Bonus Chapter--Ford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These scenes are inspired by the short comics by owlapinart on tumblr!

Dipper Pines sat huddled back in the corner of the room, chewing a pen as he observed the journal in his lap. He'd shown the journal to his twin sister Mabel, but she quickly lost interest after seeing all the physics and mathematics it was filled with. He sometimes couldn't blame her; some of these formulas were above even his comprehension.

What kept his interest in the journal was a section near the middle, dedicated to a seal depicting a downward-pointing triangle with a six-fingered hand situated in the middle. From the writing on the other pages, there was mention of 'a being of infinite knowledge'.

THAT was intriguing. A being of infinite knowledge? Could it be a demon, or a spirit, or a muse? Dipper focused primarily on those pages, wearing down the cap of three different pens as he mulled over the contents. Why make mention of a being of infinite knowledge without giving any other information on it?

The more Dipper thought about it, the more he realized he wanted to KNOW. There were mysteries here in Gravity Falls, things he wanted to KNOW about.

He traced his fingertips over the seal on the page. "…a being of infinite knowledge…" he murmured, starting on chewing pen number four. "…I wanna know more…but how can I—"

Dipper was cut from his musings when he felt a sharp spark under his fingertips, dropping his pen when he visibly saw flickers of electricity coming off of the page, wisps of blackness curling up from around the seal. He yelped, dropping the journal when it tremored in his hands, black tendrils curling up from the pages.

He watched in a numb horror as the Lovecraftian tendrils began clumping together to form something vaguely resembling a torso. Out of the mass of writhing tendrils came a humanlike face—and just a face. Where a head should be was only a black void, like a fuzzy black hole in a point of space. On the face was something resembling a pair of glasses, only they blended perfectly with the face, a golden glow shining from behind them. Around his body, an article of clothing resembling a tan lab coat appeared, still doing nothing to mask the horror underneath.

All at once, ten eyes opened up around the creature's head, each of them flickering independently around the room before honing in on Dipper in tandem. The creature's head raised, and Dipper had the sudden sensation of having everything from his appearance to the inner workings of his mind and body being observed and judged.

_**"Boy…"**_ the being spoke, sounding like an overlaying echo of at least three voices speaking together in an eldritch baritone, _**"…your desire for knowledge has summoned me."**_ It—he?—straightened up, looming over Dipper. _**"You may call me 'Ford'."**_

Dipper swallowed hard, fighting like mad to just not wet himself from terror, focusing on the genial and civil tone the creature was speaking in. "Oh…uh, 'Ford'?..." he stammered, trying to look ANYWHERE but those eyes that were staring at him. "Is…that because hearing your true name would drive me insane or something?"

The silence that came was so awkward Dipper almost laughed. He chanced a look at the creature, seeing the eyes narrow at him before several of them rolled. Dipper had never seen anything inhuman have an expression that CLEARLY said it wished to facepalm.

"…No," the creature—'Ford'—said. "…It's short for 'Stanford'."

Well this was incredibly embarrassing.

"Oh," Dipper replied oh-so-intelligently. "Um. Hi. Ford. I'm…Dipper Pines."

"I know who you are," Ford replied. "I know many things. I know that you have a sister. A twin. I know that you are here staying with your great-uncle Stanley. I know that you currently have to void your bladder, and I am willing to wait whilst you do so."

Dipper's face went red, and knew that there was no point in denying that. His options were either do the walk of shame to the bathroom, or stay and humiliate himself further. He chose the lesser of two evils and muttered a quick 'excuse me' before running out.

Ford stared after Dipper, his lips twitching slightly. He'd almost forgotten how utterly adorable the boy could be.

* * *

Adorable or not, it was getting pretty damn frustrating being summoned so often and being taken away from his research.

Whatever quandary Dipper couldn't figure out on his own, out came Stanford, who, following his own principles, would give Dipper a step-by-step series of clues for the boy to follow and figure out on his own. It was almost worth it see Dipper's face light up and eyes sparkle when the problem was solved, and the heartfelt thanks the boy gave him was endearing.

Still, as he was resorting his knowledge collection for the umpteenth time several weeks later, he ground his teeth when he heard the telltale call of his summoning. He ignored Fiddleford's half-assed attempts at smothering a laugh and dumped his pile of books into the assistant's arms before vanishing and reforming out of his seal, letting out a barely-repressed sigh.

_**"Dipper, this is the third time this week,"**_ he said, not bothering to keep the exasperation out of his voice. _**"What else can you possible need to—"**_

He cut off when he looked at the scene before him. Dipper was sitting on the floor in front of a Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons game set, the boy's expression cautiously optimistic.

"Uhh…" Dipper said after several long, agonizing moments of watching Ford stare at the board set with all ten eyes. "…well, I know you're a knowledge demon or whatever…" He tapped his fingertips together shyly. "…But do you wanna play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons with me? Mabel and Grunkle Stan don't want to…" He let out an 'eep' when Ford reached over and grabbed the back of his vest with his arm tendrils, lifting him up to eye-level.

_**"Boy,"**_ Ford intoned, and Dipper mentally braced himself for a scolding or worse. _**"You summoned me here to play MY FAVORITE GAME IN THE MULIVERSE?!"**_

Dipper blinked at the ENTHUSIASM in Ford's voice, looking up and seeing the knowledge demon beaming like a kid with candy, two other normal eyes sparkling from behind those ominous demi-glasses on his face.

Ford grinned, hearing Dipper make a sound of excitement and joy only dogs could hear, putting the boy back down on the ground before half-sitting himself, levitating a few inches off the floor and waving his tendril-like fingers, summoning his bag of dice from his home dimension and thinking that next time, he'd bring Fiddleford along for the fun.

* * *

 

_Here's my sketch of Demon! Ford!  I dunno HOW owlapinart handles all those tendrils, they were a nightmare!_

 


	10. Bonus Chapter--Mabel

Stanley Pines scowled as he walked along the beachfront sidewalk, trying to resist looking at the ocean to his left. Too many memories, too many hopeful dreams and broken promises were made by that ocean, and yet here he was, unable to resist one last moment with it before he left Glass Shard Beach forever.

He kicked a rock off the sidewalk, finally coming to a familiar area, swallowing hard when he heard the creaking of the old swing set, the seats rocking gently from the gusty sea breeze. He swallowed bitterly, walking off of the sidewalk and up to the swings, sitting down on the right one, the one that was 'his'. As he swayed back and forth on the swing, he couldn't help but think…had it REALLY been just last night that he had a home, a life, a brother? And in a day, it was gone forever?

He blinked hard, clenching his teeth to keep from crying. The last thing he wanted was to start waterworks he KNEW he couldn't stop. But still, the weight of everything crashing down at once was catching up to him, crushing at his heart in a way that was physically HURTING. He sniffled once and clenched his hands into the ropes. He couldn't break down here, not now…

A glimmer on the beach near the surf caught his attention, making him look up. At first he thought that it was a glint of moonlight on glass, but it was too shiny for that. He squinted slightly, seeing an object resting in the sand just outside the reach of the waves coming in.

Welcoming the distraction, he stood up and walked across the sand, coming up to the object, kneeling down to examine it.

It was a book…a journal, by the looks of it. The soft light of the moon was reflecting off of a golden shape on the cover that looked like a shooting star, glittering like gold. To be honest, it looked like something a little girl would buy at the dime store to doodle in. In any other circumstance, he would pit it back down and curse himself for wasting his effort investigating it, but just feeling the weight of it in his hands, picking up a distinct feeling of thick, leathery material, the seal on the cover looking too solid to be cheap foil…

He carried the book back to the swing set, sitting down and opening it, pursing his lips when glitter fell into his lap. Great. Past the glitter was writing and drawings that looked like they were done in crayon, but the art was so detailed that fact almost escaped him. He turned page after page, seeing the drawings range from stunningly beautiful to downright nightmare-inducing, picking up a few sentences in-between explaining the drawings or just random anecdotes.

He didn't know who this 'Grenda' was, but for her to guzzle five gallons of milk at once was pretty goddamn impressive.

For being done up in crayon, it was at least entertaining enough to keep him interested until he came near the middle of it, where there was a large setup that looked similar to those weird summoning circles in those nerdy D&D& More D books.

The slight reminder of his twin brother had Stan's slightly-elevated mood come crashing down again. Not even the colorful picture of the shooting star surrounded by hearts and glitter was amusing him anymore. He swallowed hard, not having the will to keep himself from crying anymore, angrily wiping at the tears that came out of his eyes.

He couldn't help it. It wasn't even two hours, but he already ached for his brother, his twin, his _best friend…_

A tear escaped being wiped by his hand, dripping off his chin and landing on the book, and Stan didn't see it sparkle like glitter before being absorbed into the page.

Stan jumped when he felt the book vibrate in his lap, shoving it to the sand with a yelp of shock. The book trembled in the sand before the symbols and circles on the pages began glowing pink, the image lifting right out of the book, spanning at least five feet in diameter, emitting a humming pulse of energy and the scent of the art room back at the high school.

He watched with wide eyes as an image emerged from the glowing circle, a young girl with long brown hair, a large pink sweater and black skirt, pink knee-highs and black flats. She looked up at him, smiling brightly, her pink eyes glowing just enough so Stan could make out distinct star-shaped pupils.

She hovered above the image for a moment before the image faded and she lowered down to stand in the sand, still smiling at him. "Hi!" she chirped, startling him out of his stupor. "I'm Mabel! But you can call me the girl of your dreams!" She batted her eyes coquettishly at him before shoving him right off the swing with a surprisingly powerful one-handed push. "I'm JOKING!" she laughed, hovering again to loom over him.

Stan stared up at her, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He had to be hallucinating out of grief, or at very least those cigarettes he bummed off of Craig earlier that day were laced with SOMETHING—

He blinked when the girl—Mabel—reached over and bopped his nose with her finger. His nose twitched, feeling something stuck to it, reaching up and pulling off a purple heart sticker. Well. This just went from weird to bizarre. "…okay, first question—what the actual fu—"

"NOPE," Mabel interrupted, pressing another sticker-laden fingertip to his mouth. "Pottymouths WILL be washed out with soap." She held up her hand, a bar of pink glittery soap appearing in it. "And I'm totally serious." She shifted back, sitting on the swing next to the one Stan had been occupying. "As for what's going on, you summoned me!" She kicked her legs slightly, starting to swing.

Stan sat up, peeling the sticker off of his lips—the hell, was it strawberry flavored?—and frowning. "…the he—heck do you mean, 'summoned'?" he asked, the bar of soap being a glittering, glaring threat he couldn't help but think was real.

Mabel beamed at him. "Well," she said, "you were feeling sad and lonely. So I came here to turn that frown upside-down!" She waved her hand, the book in the sand levitating up to her. She grabbed it out of the air and handed it to him. He took it, holding it gingerly.

"So…what? You some kinda angel or something?" He shuddered when she laughed again, the sound light and airy like a wind chime, but it was like the breeze that made it clink was arctic.

"HARDLY," she replied. "The opposite, actually." She grinned, and he became aware of how sharp her teeth were. "But," she continued, pointing to him and then to the swing, his body moving against his will to sit down on it, "I'm being honest when I said I'm here to help out your sadness! I like making friends, and lonely hearts are a calling beacon for me!" She stopped swinging, smiling at him.

"So tell you what," she said, "I'll be your friend. Your BEST friend. I'll never leave you, or let anyone hurt you. I'll even help you out with your awful situation you have now, and in return, you be MY best friend, forever and ever!"

Stan dug his heels into the sand, his hands clenching into the ropes. "…Deal with the devil, right?" he asked gruffly. He looked a distance away down the sidewalk, seeing his El Diablo that held every possession he currently owned, and suddenly his options dwindled down to near-non-existence. "…Well I might be dumb as punching bag, but I'm not stupid," he said, looking back at Mabel. "The devil's in the details…learned at least ONE useful thing from Pops. What's the cost, and when do you collect?"

Mabel smiled at him, and he swore it was something almost loving and proud. "Smart," she said. "It'll cost you your loyalty, and, yes, your soul. But you don't collect until you die a natural death. And TRUST me, I'll make sure your life is long and satisfying." She held out her hand, a pink, sparkly fire flaring in her palm. "Do we have a deal, Stan?"

Stan flicked his eyes between his car and her hand a few times before he reached out and took it, feeling like he'd stuck his hand in warm carbonated soda. It almost tickled.

"Great!" Mabel exclaimed, jumping up. "Let's get going then!" She skipped off toward his car, and he hurriedly stumbled after her, clutching the book in his hand.

"Go WHERE?" he demanded. Mabel giggled, beaming at him.

"Set a course for Oregon," she replied. "I'll explain my plan along the way!"

"…Is it a problem that my license is suspended?"

"Hey, when there's no cops around, EVERYTHING'S legal!"

"Fair enough!"

* * *

 

_My little sketch of Mabel!  I always picture her with a slight cleft like Ford, dunno why.  :|_

 


	11. Bonus Chapter--Stan

Stanford Pines sat in the office area of his small apartment, his head resting morosely in his hands.

Despite all of his thorough preemptive research, the grant board had all but laughed at his proposal to study the anomalies centered around a single point in Oregon. The head of the board took him aside and told him that he had more potential than he'd seen in most applicants even from West Coast Tech, and that he should focus on physics, engineering, or technology development, not waste his genius on something as mundane as anomalies. He told Stanford to think it over and apply again next month if he made up his mind.

All that work and his PhDs seemed to mean nothing, now that he was back at square one. Yes, he was fond of physics and technology, but he had a real passion for the unusual. HE was unusual. He could never truly put his heart and soul into any other study, no matter how gifted he was with it.

He sighed, rubbing his face and putting his glasses back on before grabbing his keys and jacket and heading out of his apartment. Sitting inside his apartment moping wasn't going to solve anything. Maybe sitting inside a bar drunk might.

Stanford had his choice between the dive bar downtown or a fancier lounge in the city. Figuring he was owed a treat, he opted for the lounge, getting himself a seat in the corner so he wouldn't be disturbed. He placed his order for a scotch on the rocks before taking out a small notebook he kept on him, letting his mind wander as he doodled aimlessly, lulled by the smooth jazz that was playing.

He was in his thought-zone, two tumblers of scotch and three pages filled with doodles in, still not coming to a solution to his dilemma. SHOULD he put his passion for anomalies on hold, and perhaps focus his attention to technology? Or should he stick to his dream, no matter how stupid it was to everyone else?

Ugh, it left a sour taste in his mouth, thinking to the reactions of the board members during his proposal. Some looked at him like he was insane, others like he was stupid. God, he'd NEVER been looked at like he was stupid before…it was horrible, and sort of a blow to his ego. The experience began drawing him back to a few years ago, starting to see thing through someone else's eyes, who had the experience of being 'stupid' before…

Stanford's nose twitched, picking up a sharp tobacco smell that snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up, seeing a river of smoke drifting by him, following it to the source, almost jumping out of his skin when he saw someone else sitting at his table.

The first thought that came to mind was 'big'. The man was big and broad, yet the black suit he was wearing was tailored perfectly, buttons and cufflinks glinting like real gold. It wouldn't be surprising if they were, considering the gold rings on his fingers and gold chain around his neck. The most interesting thing was the red fez on top of his head that held an odd crescent shape on it.

The man took a drag from the cigar, letting the smoke sift from between his lips before turning to Stanford, his face almost shrouded in shadow, but his eyes staring at him with eyes so light a shade of brown they were almost gold.

"Nice atmosphere, aint it?" he said, his voice gruff yet smooth as molten gold. Stanford remained silent, still trying to process the man next to him and why he was there. "Then again, you don't seem to be enjoyin' it that much, poindexter."

Stanford's hands almost instinctively went under the table by habit, but he forced them to remain where they were. "…It's my business whether or not I enjoy myself," he replied, those two glasses of scotch giving him some bravado toward someone who looked like he could snap him in two like a twig. "And I was enjoying my solitude."

The man laughed, and Stanford swore the whole room shook with it. "Good, you've got some bite to your bark," he said, grinding out the remains of his cigar out on the ashtray that was already situated on the table. "Then I know I wont be wastin' my time." He snapped his fingers, and Stanford was amazed when a waitress hurried over moments later with an entire bottle of scotch and two frosted glasses. The man poured out two glasses, pushing one toward Stanford before taking a swig.

Stanford didn't touch his glass, his fingers twiddling around each other nervously. "…Do I KNOW you?" he asked. The man snorted softly.

"Hardly," he replied. "But I know you, Dr. Stanford Pines. And I know the little problem you're having." He drained the rest of his glass. "I'm here to tell ya I can do somethin' about it."

"…I don't know what you're talking about," Stanford said, his hand enclosing around his notebook and pen. "…and I think I should be going." He quickly stood up and turned to leave, only to freeze when he felt something land on his shoulder with a clear indication of a warning. He flicked his eyes to the side, seeing—to his bewilderment—an 8-ball.

"Sit down, Sixer," the man said firmly, his voice seeping into Stanford's bones and coercing him to do just that. Stanford sat stiffly, and the man lifted the 8-ball-topped cane from his shoulder, settling it on the floor. "The pompous asses on the grant board wouldn't give you your grant," he continued, pouring out another glass of scotch and swishing it around in the glass. "So you have several options."

He took a long sip, purposely drawing out the anticipation.

"You can abandon a passion you know to be true and pursue physics or technology. Both of which you excel at, but are not passionate about. But if you're not into something, you lose interest in it. Your work suffers. And eventually, you crumble and crack under the depression."

He slipped a gold coin out of his pocket, flipping it between his long fingers, and Stanford couldn't help but stare almost entranced.

"Or you can take your pick from two of MY options." He flipped the coin several times catching it between his fingers. "And you can use both of which to pursue your passion in Gravity Falls."

Stanford found himself sitting up straighter. "…What do you mean?" he asked. The man grinned, and Stanford felt the blood drain out of his face when he saw rows of razor-sharp teeth.

"It's simple," the man replied, holding up the coin. "You can either take out a loan from me that I'll be collecting…" He turned the coin around. "…Or you can tell a little white lie to the board about why you wanna go to Gravity Falls, and get your grant money there."

Stanford blinked, frowning. "…Falsify my proposal for grant money…?" he demanded weakly, flexing his hands into the table. "That's…"

"…what you'll need to do to get what you want?" The man smirked. "Take it from someone who REALLY gets it…"

His eyes began to glow gold, another set opening right above them.

"…It'll be WORTH it."

Stanford swallowed hard, feeling the temperature rise to almost unbearable for a moment before it went back to normal. He jumped when the man—the CREATURE—reached into his breast pocket and took out a well-worn maroon book with the same crescent shape that was on his fez, handing it to him. Stanford felt compelled to take it with shaking hands, staring at it.

"Details are already written inside," the creature said, standing up and looming like a demonic shadow over Stanford. "You have until the end of the week to decide. When you decide to take my offer, summon me. If, on the off-chance you take too long or decide against it, it'll simply vanish." He picked up his cane, draining the rest of his glass of scotch.

"…what….ARE you…?" Stanford stammered, his hands still shaking. He didn't even need to look up to know the creature was smirking.

"…Call me Mr. Mystery," he replied, twirling his cane as he turned to leave. "…And call your mother, you know how she worries!"

"What the hell—" Stanford looked up, only to find the creature was gone. He looked down at the book in his hands, thinking that this was definitely enough scotch for tonight. He numbly walked back to his apartment, thinking he'd get his car in the morning, and sat down on the couch, staring at the book in his hands.

If that was real, then this supernatural offer was real…it was a taste of what he would be delving into in Gravity Falls. And if so, it wasn't anything he should be rushing into nilly-willy. This sounded dangerously close to a deal with demons, and he didn't want to lose his soul over something that was in the finer details.

He put the book on the coffee table, rubbing his temples as a migraine came on. He needed sleep. As he undressed for the night, he got a sudden impulse, and reached over to his bedside table, picking up his phone.

"…Hey Ma, it's Stanford…"

* * *

 

_My sketch of Stan!  Teeth are hard to draw... ;a;_

 


	12. Bonus Chapter--Bill

_This one will be longer since it's a two-parter, but I think it fits!_

* * *

Ruling over his own universe had been more mundane than he'd initially thought. He'd tried the absolute chaos thing, then when that got boring, he did a proverbial cleanup of his playroom and started more orderly play.

He found that alternating between the two held some satisfaction without the overwhelming boredom that sometimes came with getting everything you want. Sometimes letting his toys make their own decisions and play through their own lives without his interference was better. He still liked surprises, after all.

Eons passed, and soon he found it necessary to allow the Earth to form, go through its ages, and form up sentient creatures. As soon as the meatsacks began showing a modicum of intelligence, he put himself out there as a deity. Naturally, there were other interpretations, but that was fine by him. The ones that got it right got bonus prizes, which just made things more interesting.

There were other things to think about on that planet, especially concerning one particular family…so he figured, what the hell. Might as well give it another go.

"It turned out to be twins, Mr. Pines," a nurse said, looking quite tired since the labor had been almost twelve hours and it was three in the morning. "Fifteen minutes apart. The second one had a little trouble breathing on his own at first, but they're both fine and look perfectly healthy. Would you like to hold them?"

Bill tapped his fingers against his arm, keeping the features of Filbrick Pines neutral. His first go-around at this back in the universe that no longer existed, he had refused. It wasn't uncommon for his 'type' to refuse holding the babies, so he had THAT excuse.

This time, however…

He nodded, and the nurse led him inside the room. His wife was asleep in the bed, and there was another nurse quietly wrapping the babies up in blankets. Bill glanced down at them, not even needing to count fingers to know which was which. He could already sense their souls, feeling the energy that was his own flickering off of them.

How EASY it would be to take them now and put them into incubators…

He was snapped out of his musings when he heard one of the nurses whisper to the other about 'the unfortunate one with six fingers', and resisted the urge to shuffle the functions of the functions on her face and show her what a REAL freak would look like. Instead, with practiced ease—at least Shooting Star's incessant demand for hugs and cuddles paid off—he picked both of the babies up, their fussing quieting down right away.

Neither boy made a peep for the whole time it took for one of the nurses to bring in two birth certificates. "I know your wife said she wanted a boy to be named 'Stanford'," she said, filling out the sex, weight, and length. "But she wasn't expecting twins…"

"The first-born is Stanford," Bill said, glancing at the baby in his left arm. His Sixer was blinking blearily, already too fascinated with the world to rest properly. "Stanford Filbrick Pines." He glanced to his right. "…And his name is Stanley William Pines."

It was already a stark improvement; in the last universe, he hadn't bothered to give Fez a middle name.

"Two Stans, huh?" the nurse said, smiling as she wrote the names down. "That should be interesting in their years to come."

_'Lady, you don't know the half of it,'_ Bill snorted to himself.

* * *

He gave the whole 'parenting' thing an honest go this time around. Instead of blatantly favoring Stanford, he gave both of the boys equal attention and encouragement while still keeping up his 'Filbrick' façade. But even so, some things still happened, no matter what universe he happened to be in.

Stanley, though a B-average student in this universe and having a promising assistant boxing coach job lined up after high school, still had his moment of panic at having his beloved twin leaving to the other side of the country, and the machine was broken by HIM this time. Though he left no evidence, he still owned up to it out of guilt.

Stanford, ever the grudge-holder, had his words and worked as fast as he could to repair it before the West Coast Tech people came. Unfortunately, he didn't finish it quickly enough, and that option was gone forever.

Bill SUPPOSED he could twist a few things around to make it happen, but this was something he wanted to see pan out on its own for once. Instead of kicking Stanley out as Stanford went to Backupsmore, he let Stanley stick around until he got his own place, finding this to be an odd turn of events, albeit not unsatisfying.

Even back in that other universe, Bill had enjoyed going to Stanley's casino and getting to better know the conman he'd sired. It was something like that, save less eating gold-turned humans and more sharing drinks over watching boxing matches…and, yes, conning people in the pawn shop.

It was a few years down the line that he sensed a disturbance in the Force, so to speak, and he extended his consciousness to find his demi-demon Stanley in his universe, having chosen to hone in on Stanford with an offer he couldn't refuse.

Oh, the irony.

Ah, well, as long as Fez didn't gamble away the solar system, he'd be fine.

At long last, Bill figured Filbrick was at prime age for retirement, and it left Bill with enough focus to split his consciousness between his fatherly—and now grandfatherly—duties and that familiar little energy source that had summoned him from another universe….

* * *

Mabel Pines held back a sigh of boredom as she poked around the used bookstore, keeping a bit of distance between her brother and Great-Uncle Stanford. It wasn't that she DIDN'T LIKE visiting Great-Uncle Ford for the summer, but she honestly had more fun visiting Grunkle Stan in New Jersey.

Great-Uncle Ford was just so insistent on TEACHING, forgetting that this was SUMMER, and she was supposed to be resting her brain! Honestly, if she had to hear about how her music wasn't 'real' music, had to hear about college options, or told how to 'properly' play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, one more time, she was going to scream.

Naturally, her brother was ecstatic about summer or winter holidays with Great-Uncle Ford, where he could nerd out as much as he liked. Mabel was starting to regret not taking her mother's suggestion and maybe doing a summer apart for once.

Thinking of how slightly more bearable it would be if Great-Uncle Ford could let her have her own TV in her room—or at VERY least take off the child block on the one TV in his house—she plopped back on a couch in the back of the store that obviously hadn't been vacuumed for months and sighed. They'd been in this shop for an HOUR, and it didn't look like they'd be finished anytime soon. She laid down on her side, closed her eyes, and hoped they'd be ready to go before sundown.

It seemed like no time at all before she was being shaken awake by Dipper, who was looking a little embarrassed. "…We almost left you behind, Mabel," he confessed. "But we're ready to go home. Great-Uncle Ford said we can pick something up for dinner. Got any ideas?"

Mabel grabbed her bag, heading out with Dipper. "…I don't care," she said, climbing into the backseat without putting up the fuss of calling shotgun. She sort of wanted to just go back to sleep.

Ford made sure the kids were buckled in before glancing in the rearview mirror. "Are you tired, Mabel?" he asked. He was more than a little concerned about Mabel's complete lack of enthusiasm the past couple of days, and worried she might be coming down with something. Mabel just leaned her head on the window with a shrug. "Think you can eat something?"

"I'm okay," Mabel replied. "Just a long day, is all."

Ford tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove out of the parking lot. "Well, we'll pick up some dinner and see how you feel when we get home," he said. "If you're not feeling better after you eat, I'm insisting you go to bed early."

"Okay," Mabel said, hugging her bag to her, staring out the window and missing the worried look her great-uncle and brother shared in the front. Mabel ALWAYS contested their nine-PM bedtime.

Dinner was fine, and Great-Uncle Ford got her a chocolate milkshake, something he normally wouldn't condone because he was concerned about their sugar intake. Still, Mabel headed upstairs right after she ate and shut herself up in her room, sighing as she unpacked her bag of books and sketch pads she had learned to take along during outings to entertain herself, pausing when she saw a black book she DEFINITELY didn't pack that morning.

She picked it up, turning it over and seeing a golden eye on the cover that seemed to stare at her, and beckon her to open it. She opened the cover, seeing a sticker indicating that it was from the bookstore. She didn't recall putting a book in her bag, but it would be just right to have one of those 'unconscious actions' and shoplift a book out of sheer boredom.

Mabel sat down on her bed, flipping through the pages, seeing that it was a hand-written journal, rather than a regular book. There wasn't any reason or order to the book, and it was filled with mostly little sketches and weird lists, like _'Really Fun Things!'_ ('Pulling teeth out of a deer's mouth'? 'Making time stop forever'? 'Silly straws'—okay, THAT one was fun), _'REAL Conspiracies and Knowledge'_ ('The moon landing was faked to hide the truth that the moon doesn't exist', 'Chairs have feelings and you cause them pain whenever you sit on one'); and even really odd random notes done in bold ( **NOSTRADAMUS WAS A HACK!** )

It was admittedly amusing, and she loved the weirdness of it. Now, if Great-Uncle Ford's scientific journals were like THIS, they'd be more fun to read!

Mabel made it near the middle, and was greeted with the only orderly-looking thing—circle with a triangle with an eye in the middle, with what looked like arms, legs, and a bow-tie and top hat. Under the circle were word written out in Latin. She knew THAT much from her summers and winters here, at least.

She squinted at the words, mouthing them a few times before speaking them out loud.

_"Triangulum, entangulum. Meteforis dominus ventium. Meteforis venetisarium…"_

Although she felt a slight creeping up her spine, there was nothing. Figures the one book that would bring some excitement to her summer would be a dud. Nothing says 'fun' like summoning eldritch abominations, right?

Mabel stashed the book under her pillow, yawning as she laid down, feeling unnaturally tired all of a sudden. She crawled under her blankets and closed her eyes, blacking out to sleep in seconds.

It seemed like seconds later that she woke up and was greeted with an eyeful of absolutely beautiful stars and galaxies in every color of the rainbow. "Wow," she breathed, spinning to look around. She giggled when she saw a dazzling rainbow-like shooting star zoom past her in a flash of color and glitter.

"Easily amused, aren't you, Shooting Star?"

Mabel blinked, turning around and seeing a large golden triangle staring at her—yes, staring—with one large eye. It was wearing a top hat and a bow tie, and was leaning on a cane mid-air, and even without a face, it looked amused. "…Um…hi," Mabel said, giving it a little wave.

"Hi," it—he? It sounded like a he—replied, waving back. "You like your little Mindscape?" He looked around. "Well, not quite 'little', so much as 'limitless'…"

"Oh!" Mabel exclaimed, now remembering that this creature looked like that image in the circle of the book. "You're that guy from the book!"

The triangle's eye seemed to grin as he took the top hat off and tilted forward in an image of bowing. "The name's Bill Cipher," he replied, putting the hat back on. "And you're Mabel Pines, the young lady who changed the world. But I'm getting ahead of ourselves. Let's have some fun!"

He snapped his fingers, creating a table covered with crafts material. "Care for some crafting? I've got glitter." His eye shone with amusement when Mabel let out a squeak and began examining around the table. "Have a glass of Mabel Juice." He formed up a pitcher of her signature juice—which he SWORE was more potent than the tequila it took to make his margaritas.

Mabel took a glass of the Juice, sipping it and finding it to her exact specifications. "You KNOW about Mabel Juice?" she asked, beaming. Bill took a spot at the other end of the table, deftly folding an origami pyramid.

"I know lots of things," he replied. "That's because I'm a muse. I pick one creative mind a century to inspire, and lemme tell ya, Shooting Star, you have one of the most colorful, powerful, creative minds I've ever had the pleasure of being in."

"Oh." Mabel seemed to wilt slightly. "…so this is all in my head. Figures."

Bill huffed. Just what kind of boring, fun-sucking lame-o did Sixer become in this universe? He reached over the table and tucked a hand under Mabel's chin, lifting her head. "Listen up, Shooting Star," he said, getting her attention. "Just because it's in your head doesn't mean it's not real. You think up amazing things and put them on paper, or you sculpt them out, right? THAT makes it real."

He leaned back, dumping his glass of Mabel Juice into his eye. "Stick with me, kid, and I'll make your fantasy EVERYONE'S reality." He blinked once, then held out his hand, encasing it in blue fire. "So how's about it, Shooting Star?"

Mabel wiped her eyes, staring at his hand as she chewed her lip thoughtfully. "…On one condition," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You'll be my friend forever. From now until the end of time."

Oh, how THAT sent shivers up his nonexistent spine. But hey, he was already in Glitter Hell, he might as well make himself at home.

"Just let me into your mind, Mabel."

Mabel beamed, shaking his hand. "Just call me 'friend'," she said, her eyes glinting pink as the fire encasing both their hands flickered between blue and pink, making it purple. And sparkly. And it smelled vaguely of margaritas and craft glue.

And with that, Bill Cipher was almost certain he could hear the sound of a universe screaming out in horror.

**T͎̻̗̺̎͑H͓̭̤̱E͓̭̻̳̠̦̬͌͐̍ͤ ͙̗̲͍͉͈͢E̩̜͓̦͖̮̊̀͛͆̂ͅN̢͇ͪ̓̂̿̋ͬD̈ (̘̳̙̘͓̹̻̆?̦̖̄̉̇͛̏͊ͅ)͎̣͕ͩͭ͟ͅ**

**Author's Note:**

> The One of Us AU origins from the awesome poinsixer on tumblr. The best description of the Dad Bill Theory is as follows:  
> http://princess-starburst.tumblr.com/post/133409537579/more-on-the-filbrick-was-possessed-by-bill-the


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